"Amy! Why, you poor little darling!" Ethel held her sister tight, asked quick anxious questions and did things to relieve her, but with little or no success. It seemed hours till Joe came back. With him was a doctor, who made an examination and then took Joe into the hall. Ethel followed anxiously. She heard the doctor questioning Joe, and she heard him say:
"I'm afraid it's ptomaine.
"What does that mean?" Joe fiercely inquired. But before Ethel could hear the reply she was called back into the bedroom, where on her bed with both hands clenched Amy was saying:
"I can't bear this! Make him give me something—quick!"
The rest of the night was a blur and a haze, of which Joe was the centre—Joe half crazed and impatient, making impossible demands.
"You can't get a nurse in a minute, my friend, at five A. M.," the doctor cried. "I'm doing my best, if you'll give me a chance!"
The fight went on. The nurse arrived, and turning to Ethel the doctor said, "Get him out of this." And she took Joe into the living-room. But there with a sudden curse and a groan he began to walk the floor.
"This doctor—what do we know of him? He was all I could find! We haven't been to a doctor in years! . . . Ah—that's it!" And he went to the telephone, where in a few moments she heard him saying tensely, "Bill, old man, I'm in trouble." And she thought, "It's his partner."
"What have you done?" she asked him.
"Got Bill Nourse on the 'phone. He's bringing another doctor."