There was silence in the room. Amy had now reached the silk stockings; and taking up one, she blew down into it and quickly peeped over the side, to see whether it would fill out to life-size—with a mischievous wink.
"I am going to him at once."
Amy looked up in amazement.
"But, Aunt Jessica," she observed reproachfully; "who will get uncle's
dinner? You know I can't."
"Tell your uncle what has happened as soon as he comes."
She had risen and was making some rapid preparations.
"I want my dinner," said Amy ruefully, seating herself on the edge of the bed and watching her aunt with disapproval.
"You can't go now!" she exclaimed. "Uncle has the horses in the field."
Mrs. Falconer turned to her with simple earnestness.
"I hoped you would lend me your horse?"
"But he is tired; and beside I want to use him this afternoon: Kitty and I are going visiting."
"Tell your uncle when he comes in," said Mrs. Falconer, turning in the doorway a minute later, and speaking rapidly to her niece, but without the least reproach, "tell your uncle that his friend is badly hurt. Tell him that we do not know how badly. Tell him that I have gone to find out and to do anything for him that I can. Tell him to follow me at once. He will find me at his bedside. I am sorry about the dinner."