“Bring her into my office. Steady, men! There may be broken bones, and jarring would be torture. Don’t stumble over that book on the floor. Lay her here on the sofa, and throw open the blinds.”
“Dr. Grey, is she dead?”
“No, only badly stunned; and the contusion on the head 135 seems to be very severe. Stand back, all of you, and give her air. When did it happen?”
“About twenty minutes ago. She is a stout, heavy woman, and we could not walk very fast with such a burden. Ah! you intend to bleed her?”
“Yes, I fear nothing else will relieve her. Mitchell, hold the arm for me.”
“How did she receive this injury?” asked Dr. Mitchell, who had been holding a consultation with Dr. Grey relative to some perplexing case.
“Those gray ponies which we were admiring a half-hour since, as they trotted by the door, took fright at a menagerie procession coming up from the dépot to the Hippodrome,—and ran away. In steering clear of the elephant, who was covered from head to foot, and certainly looked frightful, the horses ran into a mass of lumber and brick at the corner of Fountain and Franklin streets, where a new store is being erected, and the carriage was upset. Unfortunately the harness was very strong, and did not give away until the carriage had been dragged some yards among the rubbish, and one of the horses finally floundered into a bed of mortar, and broke the traces. The driver kept his hold upon the reins to the last, but was badly bruised, and this woman was thrown out on a pile of bricks and granite-caps. The municipal authorities should prohibit these menagerie parades, for the meekest plough-horse in the State could scarcely have faced that band of musicians, flanked by the covered elephant and giraffe, and the cages of the beasts,—much less those fiery grays, who seem snuffing danger even when there is no provocation.”
“Who is this woman?”
“She is a total stranger to me,” answered Dr. Grey, bending down to put his ear to the heart of the victim.
A bystander seemed better informed, and replied,—