“He had a fall—at the—the ghost house,” Nate answered.
“Ghost house! What joke is that?” chuckled the physician, quickly taking off his coat and gloves and picking up the black bag he had set down on a chair.
Out in the kitchen Sim was intoning to the little girl:
“And when the Prince came riding by in his automobile——”
“Didn’t he have a horse?” questioned the child, smiling now.
“No, he was a new sort of Prince—he had a car.”
“Oh, how queer! A fairy story with an auto. But I like it. Go on, please.”
Dr. Ramsdell bent over the man on the bed. He felt his pulse, put his hand on the heart, and pulled back the closed eyelids.
“Why, he’s not badly hurt!” he announced. “My goodness, this is no accident at all! Just a little shock. Here, my man! How are you? Drink this!” He had quickly mixed something in a glass of water that Arden, with ready foresight, had in waiting for him. “That’s better. Now tell me the joke about the ghost house.”
“It’s Sycamore Hall in Jockey Hollow, where he was working,” Arden supplied.