“Child! You did not ride that ford to-night?”
“Not all the way, sir. Phœbe swam.”
“Phœbe, indeed! A pretty pair are you and Phœbe to race round the country at midnight. Go to Mrs. Ward and get some dry clothes, while my man gets out the gig.”
“O, sir, please be quick.”
“Yes, yes; only get off those wet things. Let Phœbe stay here till to-morrow, for my old gig can’t swim the creek, whatever you and the mare can do. We must go by the upper bridge.”
Mrs. Ward, called out of bed, supplied Fayette with dry things, and Phœbe was consigned to the doctor’s admiring colored man, to be well cared for before she took possession of her bed in the warm stable.
The doctor kept a trotter for emergencies, and in an hour and a half from the time she had left home Fayette came back.
Sue came to meet them, white and scared; and, as she came, Fayette heard a cry of anguish, which she knew that nothing but the direst extremity could have wrung from her strong, self-controlled aunt.
The doctor took out his ether flask and sponge, and hurried to the bedside.
Before long the ministering spirit did its good office. The tortured nerves relaxed, and the patient slept.