With infinite tenderness he carried the child down the road a little way to a gate, and thence up a narrow walk bordered with lilac bushes. The door of the farm house was open and, without hesitation, he walked into the kitchen, where a woman stood ironing.
“I found——” he began.
The woman turned swiftly, and as she saw his burden, her face grew ghastly white and her hands flew to her heart.
“Amy!” she gasped in a choking voice. “Is—she——”
“She’s not dead,” Dick reassured her, “but I’m afraid she’s badly hurt. I picked her up in the road outside. Some one in a car had run over her and left her there.”
For an instant he thought the woman was going to faint. Then she pulled herself together with a tremendous effort.
“Give her to me!” she cried fiercely, her arms outstretched. “Give her to me!”
Her eyes were blinded with a sudden rush of tears.
“Little Amy, that never did a bit o’ harm to nobody,” she sobbed. “Oh, it’s too much!”
“Careful, now,” Merriwell cautioned. “Take her gently. I’m afraid her arm is broken.”