"Help me here, Phil. We'll carry her right up."
Kit tried to speak but her voice was only a wheezing rasp and ended in a groan.
When Mrs. Stacey arrived, having been called by Shirley, she was anxious to get Kit to the hospital, but the doctor refused to have her moved. "Everything depends on keeping her quiet and warm during the next few hours."
At six o'clock when Colonel Baxter arrived, he rushed into the house like a man whose reason had left him. He had heard of the accident and had been told that Bet was dying, if not already dead.
"Bet! Oh Bet!" he moaned. His face was deadly white. "Bet! Where is she?"
Shirley was at his side in a moment. "Bet is all right, Colonel Baxter. She's sound asleep now and seems comfortable. It's Kit we're worried about."
Colonel Baxter's face looked relieved for a second, then he realized that if anything happened to Kit some other father would feel as he felt on that ride from the station.
He slipped into Bet's room and looked at her for a moment as if to assure himself that she was safe, then went to Kit. The doctor was alone at the bedside.
"Will she live, Doctor?" he asked, his voice trembling with emotion.
"It will be a hard pull tonight to keep this from developing into pneumonia. She's strong and ought to pull through—but one never can tell. She's a sick girl."