"Tell me, quick, for God's sake! Is it anything about Dick? Has he had an accident? Is he hurt! O, why don't you speak!"
"Dick's not hurt."
"Thank God! But on and off, all this week, I've been frightened about him. It's a shame and a sin to work a man as he's been worked. Who's outside?"
She flew to the door, and pulled into the room a man employed by the same Company as her husband.
"There's something the matter," she gasped, and caught Rosy up, and pressed the child close to her breast. The man judged wisely that it would be the best to come to the point at once.
"Dick sent me to you, Mrs. Hart," he said; "he's had an accident, and one or two people have been hurt; he's all right himself, and he sent me to tell you so."
"Why didn't he come himself?" asked the wife, trembling and crying.
"Well, you see—" began the man; but Mrs. Hart did not allow him to proceed.
"They've put him in prison," she said, with a quick short breath; "my Dick, the best husband and the best father in the world! And they're going to punish him for what's not his fault Do you know how many hours' sleep he's had this week?"
"Don't excite yourself, there's a good soul!" remonstrated Mrs. Thomson. "He'll come out of it all right. Think of your baby."