“Will you please tell him to come to J. H. Twitchell's?”
“Yes, I'll send him right down.”
“Thank you.”
She went back to her bed room then, turning, retraced her steps. The doctor could come home by way of Twitchell's as their home was not a great distance from the Brownson's.
She rang the Brownson's and after a little while a voice answered.
“Is this Mrs. Brownson?”
“Yes.”
“May I speak to Dr. Blank. I think he must be there now.”
“He's been here. He's gone home.”
Mary knew by the voice that its owner had not enjoyed getting out of bed. “I wonder how she would like to be in my place,” she thought, smiling. She dared not trust herself to her pillow. She might fall asleep and not waken when her husband came in. She wondered what time it was. Up there on the wall the clock was ticking serenely away—she had only to turn the button beside her to find out. But she did not turn it. In the sweet security of the dark she felt safe. In one brief flash of light some prowling burglar might discover her.