“Jumpy, as Millie would say,” Gloria tried to reassure herself. But when a “honk” from outside shrilly announced the arrival of Trixy and her car, a great wave of relief enveloped the good Samaritan.
“I’m so glad!” she sighed.
Every one of the small group of dingy windows was immediately darkened with eager little faces.
“Here she is! Here she is!” cried a chorus.
“And—yep, here’s the doctor too!” announced Marty.
“And it’s a great big swell car—hers,” chirped up May.
“You bet!” confirmed the little fellow called Dick. He was so small and so humble he seldom was called, or did he make his presence felt. Dick was about as big as a watch charm and looked like one from India.
The doctor and Trixy appeared at the door, simultaneously. With that hushed awe significant of his presence, the man with the small black bag went directly to the bed, while Trixy and Gloria clung to each other in the briefest, if warmest, embrace.
In the general room all the children, automatically collected as did all the family cares, but now Gloria, and the ever prompt and responsive Trixy, quickly gathered the fluttering brood, like so many little chirping chickens, and crowded them into the slant roofed kitchen. Ellen stayed with the doctor. Evidently she was accustomed to that office.
Neither Gloria nor Trixy gasped nor exclaimed. They were too sensible and too serious. That she had come in the big car with her chauffeur was easy to understand, for having received Gloria’s urgent message and knowing that she would only be out at Gorman’s in a real emergency, Trixy took no chances of being hampered with her own little runabout.