"Yes, sir," said the White Linen Nurse. "Why! Didn't you know it, sir?"
CHAPTER VI
Headlong the Senior Surgeon pitched over on the grass,—his last vestige of self-control stripped from him,—horror unspeakable racking him sobbingly from head to toe.
Whimperingly the Little Girl came crawling to him, and settling down close at his feet began with her tiny lace handkerchief to make futile dabs at the mud-stains on his gray silk stockings. "Never mind, Father," she coaxed, "we'll get you clean sometime."
Nervously the White Linen Nurse bethought her of the brook. "Oh, wait a minute, sir—and I'll get you a drink of water!" she pleaded.
Bruskly the Senior Surgeon's hand jerked out and grabbed at her skirt.
"Don't leave me!" he begged. "For God's sake—don't leave me!"
Weakly he struggled up again and sat staring piteously at the blazing car. His unrelinquished clutch on the White Linen Nurse's skirt brought her sinking softly down beside him like a collapsed balloon. Together they sat and watched the gaseous yellow flames shoot up into the sky.
"It's pretty, isn't it?" piped the Little Girl.
"Eh?" groaned the Senior Surgeon.