“Oh, please don’t go away!” begged Ellen, terror again straining her young face.
“But we must get a doctor,” insisted Gloria, anxiously.
“I’ll go,” spoke up Marty. “I can ride your wheel if y’u don’ mind.”
“Certainly, take it and hurry,” begged Gloria. “And, can you telephone, Marty?”
“Sure.”
Then she gave him Trixy Travers’ number and asked him to summon her friend with her car. The next moment Marty was off.
Gloria was deciding quickly that the sick woman should not die if the doctor would agree to her transference to the Marie Hospital.
“We’ll manage to get her there somehow,” she was deciding, but no hint of her intention was given to the hysterical Ellen, or to the other terrified little ones.
While Marty sped off Gloria heated more coffee and again undertook the difficult task of forcing the half conscious woman to drink some of it. But even the seriousness of this did not blot out the memory of her real mission there. Perhaps pride is a tyrant, yet it must be reckoned as inspiring, when the best that is in one responds to its call. Gloria was determined to see about that ill-fated little park with its fairy house, planned by the young man whose dreams failed him.
“Ben Hardy!” thought Gloria suddenly. “He ought to know. He is a student of nature and this seems to be entirely Nature’s fault.”