“Do you understand?” he asked.
They did, and they grinned.
The following night, after the Penningtons had dined, a ranch hand came up from Mrs. Burke’s to tell them that their new neighbor was quite ill, and that the woman who did her housework wanted Mrs. Pennington to come down at once as she was worried about her mistress.
“We will be right down,” said Colonel Pennington.
They found Mrs. Burke breathing with difficulty, and the colonel immediately telephoned for a local doctor. After the physician had examined her, he came to them in the living room.
“You had better send for Jones, of Los Angeles,” he said. “It is her heart. I can do nothing. I doubt if he can; but he is a specialist. And,” he added, “if she has any near relatives, I think I should notify them—at once.”
The housekeeper had joined them, and was wiping tears from her face with her apron.
“She has a daughter in Los Angeles,” said the colonel; “but we do not know her address.”
“She wrote her to-day, just before this spell,” said the housekeeper. “The letter hasn’t been mailed yet—here it is.”
She picked it up from the center table and handed it to the colonel.