"She's had a stroke," he said, still with that urgent and hurried air, "and Joseph—poor old fellow, he was completely broken up—said that she had been begging them to get hold of you!"
Norma had gotten into the familiar front seat, but now she stayed him with a quick hand.
"Wait a minute, Chris, I'll run up and tell Aunt Kate where I am going!" she said.
"She's gone out. There's nobody there!" he assured her, glancing up at the apartment windows. "I knew you would be coming in, so I waited."
"Then I'll telephone!" the girl said, settling herself again. "But what do you suppose she wants me for?" she asked, returning to the subject of the summons. "Have they—will they—send for Aunt Annie and Leslie, do you suppose?"
"Leslie is in Florida with the Binneys, most unfortunately. Annie was in Baltimore yesterday, but I believe she was expected home to-day. Joseph said he had gotten hold of Hendrick von Behrens, and I told my clerk to get Acton, and to warn Miss Slater that Alice isn't to be frightened."
"But, Chris—do you suppose she is dying?"
"I don't know—one never does, of course, with paralysis."
"Poor Aunt Alice—it will almost kill her!"
"Yes, it will be terribly hard for her, harder than for any one," he answered. And Norma loved him for the grave sympathy that filled his voice, and for the poise that could make such a speech possible, under the circumstances, without ever a side glance for her.