A sharp little shout of alarm, and her attention leaped to the road again. Around the curve, coming toward them, a car had dashed at full speed. Miss Susanna had cried out as she attempted to dodge it. So abruptly had it appeared around the curve she had not seen it until it was directly upon her. The driver lacked the skill to turn the car aside quickly enough to avert the calamity. Marjorie added her cry of horror to Miss Hamilton’s. Before she could drag her elderly friend out of danger, she saw her apparently flung to one side. The devastating motor car gave a wicked lurch and whizzed on.
Bewildered by the suddenness of the accident, Marjorie stared unbelievingly when she next beheld Miss Susanna not only move but raise herself from the ground to a sitting posture. Sight of this apparent miracle galvanized her into action. She sprang to Miss Hamilton calling out:
“Oh, Miss Susanna, I’m so thankful you weren’t run over. Tell me where you are hurt. I saw the car fling you and——”
“The car didn’t touch me. I made a leap and fell down just beyond it by not more than an inch or two. My foot slipped in the soft mud. I am all right. Help me up, child.”
Marjorie had not attempted to raise the old lady to her feet before ascertaining whether she were able to stand. She now lifted her up with her grateful, young strength, exclaiming indignant sympathy over the muddy condition of Miss Hamilton’s long coat of fine black broadcloth.
“Can you walk, Miss Susanna, or do you feel too much shaken? Perhaps you ought to stand still for a few minutes until you recover from the shock. Plenty of taxicabs from the station or the taxi stand below the campus pass here. I could hail one for you if you would ride in it to the gardener’s house.”
“No, not for me,” refused the old lady with sharp decision. “I shall turn back and go home. I will send Jonas with the basket this evening.”
“Take my arm. I can carry the basket with my other hand.” As she talked Marjorie had busied herself in brushing off what she could of the mud from the old lady’s coat. Miss Susanna’s hat was still jammed over one eye. Her small, sturdy hands were plastered with sticky mud. “Let me straighten your hat. There! Now hold out your hands.” Marjorie wiped them with her own handkerchief.
“Such a catastrophe,” scolded Miss Hamilton, “and at my age! And all on account of a reckless girl driver! I think I had better take your arm, Marjorie. Can you manage to support me and carry that basket, too?”
Assuring Miss Hamilton that she could, the two slowly retraced their steps. A reaction soon setting in, Miss Susanna became silent for a time. Marjorie said nothing, fearing conversation might prove an undue strain upon the victim of the accident.