“I guess not,” she resumed, after Sherry had laid her on the back seat of the car. “Nothing cracks when I wiggle it. My nose is skinned,” she supplemented a minute later, “and there’s a comb sticking straight into my head. I guess that’s all.”
“Oh,” breathed Sherry in immeasurable relief. “It’s a miracle you weren’t killed. I thought sure you were. It looked as though both front wheels had gone over you.”
“One went over my hat and the other over the tail of my coat,” replied Katherine cheerfully. “They just missed me by a hair’s breadth.”
“Are you sure your head isn’t hurt?” Sherry continued anxiously. “You were unconscious when we lifted the car off of you, you know.”
Katherine solemnly felt her head all over. “There is a bump there—no; that’s my bump of generosity; it belongs there. Anyway, it doesn’t hurt when I press it, so it must be all right,” she assured him. “I must have fainted, I guess, when the car came on top of me. It came so suddenly, and it made such a terrible noise. You can’t think how awful it was.”
“It must have been.” A shudder went quivering through Sherry’s frame at the thought of it. “I can’t get it out of my mind. I thought those wheels went right over you. It’s nothing short of a miracle that they went on each side of you instead of over you,” he said, repeating the sentiment he had just uttered a moment before. “It all happened so quickly the driver didn’t have a chance to turn aside. There was no one in sight one minute, and the next minute we were right on top of you. That driver out there’s so scared he can’t stand up on his legs yet.”
“How did you happen to be in that taxicab?” Katherine inquired curiously.
“We’re on our way home,” replied Sherry. “We missed the Pennsylvania out of New York and had to take the Nickel Plate, which meant we had to change from one station to the other here in Philadelphia. We were going across in a taxi.”
“So you were too late to catch Dr. Phillips?” said Katherine soberly.
“Yes,” replied Sherry gloomily. “The boat had gone yesterday.”