"Is my father still alive?" she demanded, with the first indication of any strain in her voice.
"Yes," came the reassuring reply. "He is just the same."
"And did you succeed in getting a nurse?"
"Yes. Dr. Winston's here too.... Now, the Mrs. said to bring you both in for a hot breakfast."
Linda was so excited that she did not see how she could possibly eat, but when she realized that the surgeon must take time for something, she finally agreed. But first she tiptoed in for a look at her father, and gave him a kiss that was really a prayer. A white-clad nurse smiled at her, and she believed hopefully that all was well.
The inaction, the weary, tense waiting of the next two hours was more difficult for Linda than her flight to Louisiana, alone in the darkness. She had nothing to do. Sleep was out of the question, yet she was terribly tired. But she could not sit still; aimlessly she followed Mrs. Cates around, begging for work. At last the good woman, realizing that the girl could not rest, set her to washing dishes and preparing vegetables for the noon-day meal.
But finally the operation was over, and Linda's heart stood still as she heard Dr. Winston coming out of her father's room. Suppose it had all been in vain! She covered her face with her hands, she dared not trust herself to look into his eyes, that would tell her, before he could utter the words, whether her father had lived.
And then came the glorious news that set her heart to singing as if the whole world had been recreated in joy and happiness:
"Your father is doing nicely, Miss Carlton.... Dr. Lineaweaver believes that he will get well."
Now the tears came in floods, tears of thankfulness and gladness, and she hugged Mrs. Cates in her ecstasy.