“I’m going to git some news,” she said, and went to the telephone, but central could tell her little more than she already knew, for everything was confusion as yet at the scene of the outrage. The dispatchers’ office was busy and refused to answer any call. So Mary hung up the receiver again and came back to Mamie. “I’ll try again after a while,” she said, and again they nerved themselves to wait.
But not for long.
For suddenly, the telephone rang sharply.
“I’ll go,” said Mary, and Mamie sat where she was, clutching blindly at her chair, biting her lips until the blood came.
“He’s not hurt!” she said, over and over to herself. “He’s not hurt! He’s not hurt! It can’t be! It sha’n’t be! He’s not hurt!”
“Is that you, Mary?” asked Jack’s voice.
“Yes; what’s the matter?—your voice don’t sound natural.”
“The boy’s hurted,” said Jack, his voice breaking in a sob. “Bring Mamie an’ come quick.”
“Where to?”
“To Chestnut’s drugstore. I can’t tell you, Mary, but fer God’s sake, come quick!”