CHAPTER XII.
It was a lovely morning in late September. The sun almost shone through the film of light gray clouds which lay serenely over all the heavens. There was a golden gleam in the atmosphere,
“And a tender touch upon everything
As if Autumn remembered the days of Spring.”
The doctor and his wife were keenly alive to the beauty of the day. After they had driven several miles they stopped before a little brown house. The doctor said he would like Mary to go in and she followed him into the low-ceiled room.
“Here, you youngsters, go out into the yard,” said the mother of the children. “There ain't room to turn around when you all get in.” They went. A baby seven or eight months old sat on the floor and stared up at Mary as she seated herself near it. Two women of the neighborhood sat solemnly near by. The doctor approached the bed on which a young woman of eighteen or twenty years was lying.
“My heart hain't beat for five minutes,” she said.
“Is that so?” said the doctor, quite calm in the face of an announcement so startling. “Well, we'll have to start it up again.”
“That's the first time she has spoke since yesterday morning,” said one of the solemn women in a low tone to the doctor.
“It didn't hurt her to keep still. She could have spoken if she had wanted to.” The two women looked at each other. “No, she couldn't speak, Doctor,” said one of them.