The sun beat fiercely down, and Peggy began to fear that her breath and strength would give out. On she toiled, and at length raised a hot, streaming face to the sky—
"Oh God, I arsks you to make me keep on, for 'tis my missus's life I'm a-thinkin' of. I arsks you to make the road shorter, or my legs stronger!"
And was it an answer to prayer, when the hot, pitiless sun became shut off by a long line of woods on each side of the road? Peggy thought it was, and smiled contentedly as she trudged bravely on. Milestone after milestone she passed, and at last came in sight of the town.
People stared at her as she jog-trotted along in the middle of the road, a panting, dusty little object, only once pausing to make sure of the doctor's house.
But when she reached it, she could hardly make herself understood. Happily the doctor had just come in from his morning rounds, and when his servant told him, he came out to interview Peggy himself.
"Have you come from Sundale? Why, that is a long walk! An accident? Yes. Take time, my girl. Here, sit down!"
Peggy swayed from side to side.
"Please, sir," she gasped, "my legs is done for. They've walked theirselves silly!"
She remembered no more, for she fainted dead away. And it was some minutes before Dr. Nairns could restore her to consciousness.
When she could tell him what had happened, he wasted no more time, but had his trap round at once, perched Peggy up by his side, and drove rapidly towards Sundale.