“You were very kind. I can’t seem to think very clearly,” and poor Grace put her hand to her head.
“Then don’t try, my dear: You’ll be all right in a little while. Just rest. I’ll see if the doctor can come to you now.”
“Why is he here—in the house—is some one else ill?” asked Grace, quickly.
“Yes, my dear. Poor little Dodo was knocked down by the horse, and we fear is badly hurt.”
“Dodo?” and the voice of Grace fairly rang at the name.
“Yes, little Dora Billette. This is her aunt’s house. She and her brother Paul are visiting here.”
“Yes, yes! I know. They live near me in Deepdale. Their sister Mollie is one of my best friends. I am Grace Ford.”
“Oh yes, I know you now. I thought I recognized your face. I have seen you at Mollie’s house. I am a distant relative. But rest yourself now, and the doctor will come to you as soon as he can. He has to attend to Dodo first, the little dear!”
“Oh! Dodo, Dodo!” cried Grace, much affected. “You poor little darling, and to think that it was my fault! I must go to her. Mollie will never forgive me!”
She tried to rise.