“Yes,” she answered; then, as she saw the burden the men were carrying, she cried: “My God! What’s that? What are they bringing it here for?”
The young Southerner managed to withdraw her into the front room of the flat, and he noticed that it was very clean and very tidy.
“I am a doctor,” he began, soothingly, “and I am sorry to say that there has been an accident—”
“An accident?” she repeated. “Oh, my God! And is it Tim?”
“You must summon all your courage, Mrs. McEcchran,” the doctor returned. “This is a serious matter—a very serious matter.”
“Is he hurt very bad?” she cried. “Is it dangerous?”
“I may as well tell you the truth, Mrs. McEcchran,” said the physician. “I cannot say that your husband will ever be able to be out again.”
By that time the stretcher had been brought into the room, with the body on it entirely covered by a blanket.
“You don’t mean to tell me that he is going to die?” she shrieked, wringing her hands. “Don’t say that, Doctor! don’t say that!”
The bearers set the stretcher down, and the woman threw herself on her knees beside it.