“Now for my captive,” she said, “time’s up. Life in a study with two sophomores is hard on a freshman’s nerves. A few days of the rest-cure will about suit you.”
Martha glanced at me, for Lila was still hiding her face.
“It was silly of me,” she explained shyly, “but I grew so nervous when you didn’t meet me that I cried and that made it worse. I watched every car and both sides of the street, and I waited till after dark. You see, I didn’t have any money for car-fare. After they began to light the lamps, I started to walk out here to the college. Everybody was eating supper, and I was all alone on the road with dark fields on both sides. I could not help thinking of those dreadful robbers and maniacs and tramps——”
“What?” cried the doctor.
I drew a deep breath. “We told her,” I said. “I—I’m afraid we exaggerated. I—I thought it would be more interesting.”
“Oh!” said the doctor. It was such a grim sort of an oh that I repented some more, though indeed it was not necessary.
Martha smiled at me. I always did consider her the dearest, most sympathetic little thing. “It was my fault,” she said, “I am such a coward anyhow. And then when I ran past a rock, I imagined I saw something move and jump toward me. I lost my wits and ran and ran and ran till I twisted my ankle and fell. I must have struck my head on a stone. I’m sorry. It was silly of me to run. Please don’t worry.”
“That will do for the present,” said the doctor.
Then they carried her over to the infirmary. Lila and I walked out past the crowd in front of the bulletin board. They were cheering.
“Listen, Lila,” I said, “good news from somewhere.”