She was scarcely a moment away. In a couple of minutes she was standing by Mrs. Harvey's bed.
Exhausted by her days and nights of watching, the tired-out mother had slept all through the long hours of the day. She opened her eyes now with a start. Healing sleep had done wonders for her—the dewy look of youth had come back to her face; her beautiful blue eyes were fixed for a moment on Dorothy with a puzzled expression of non-recognition.
"Where am I? What has happened?" she asked in a startled voice.
"You have just had a lovely sleep," said Dorothy. "You'll be all the better for it."
"And who are you? I cannot quite collect my thoughts—I know something has happened. Who are you? I cannot remember you."
"I am the nurse who is taking care of your dear little girl. She is better."
"Oh, yes, now I remember," said Mrs. Harvey. She sat up in bed and clasped her hands tightly.
"It was wrong of me to sleep so long," she said, "but I won't be a moment getting dressed; I must go back to the child at once."
"Will you come to your room?" said Dorothy. "You can change your dress there. I know Mr. Harvey is most anxious that you should dine with him this evening."
"Dine with my husband!—have dinner? But Freda is ill; she is at death's door."