"What is it?" she asked anxiously. "What is wrong?"
"Father's had an accident, and they're bringing him home! There was a runaway horse coming down the street, and he tried to stop it, and oh," with a shudder, "it trod upon him!"
Molly began to cry, and at the sound Mrs. Lethbridge, with a mighty effort, collected her startled wits.
"Dick," she said quickly and imperatively, "do you take baby and Molly upstairs into your own room, and shut the door. Mind and remain there, all of you, till I say you may come out."
Taking the baby in his arms, Dick led the way upstairs, and carried out his mother's instructions. Molly's frightened sobs soon ceased, and the children strained their ears to catch every sound.
"They are carrying him upstairs," Dick whispered; "and that's Dr. Bly's voice. Oh, I hope poor father isn't dead."
The time seemed endless, but it was actually only half-an-hour before Jim softly opened the door, and joined them.
"Oh, Jim!" cried Molly, flinging herself into his arms. "He's not dead—say he's not dead."
"No, he's not dead. They have put him to bed, but I'm afraid the doctor thinks he's badly hurt. Mother said I was to come and take you all downstairs."
"Will father die?" Molly questioned. "Oh, Jim, do say!"