Mr. Williams carried Annabel into the house, issuing as he went a string of commands.
“Jane, prepare a hot water bath; Fanny, send Peter for the doctor; Nora, bring me some towels and warm flannels,” and so on until all the servants were running about upon their various errands.
He carried the girl to her room, and tore or cut away her clothing, plunging her as quickly as possible into a warm bath. She was quite conscious now, and kept saying: “I’m all right, papa! I’m all right.”
But the man grimly insisted on carrying out his plans, and after the bath rolled her in warm flannels and tucked his child snugly into bed.
“Mrs. Williams’ compliments, sir,” said the servant; “and she begs to know how is the little girl.”
“Tell Mrs. Williams not to disturb herself,” he answered, gruffly; but Annabel herself called a more satisfactory message, for she said:
“I’m all right, tell mamma.”
Nora, blubbering with joy and thankfulness, for Annabel was her especial pet, brought in a bowl of hot lemonade, which Mr. Williams forced the convalescent to drink. And then Doctor Meigs arrived, and after a glance around the room and a brief examination of his patient, nodded his shaggy head in approval.
“She’ll come along nicely, sir,” he said; “thanks to your prompt and intelligent methods. But it was a close call for the little one. Who pulled her out?”
“I haven’t heard,” replied the great man, looking up with sudden interest. “But I’ll find out at once, for whoever it was most certainly saved her life.”