"You don't mean that you raised her head and gave her water, do you?" exclaimed he in surprise.
"Why, of course. How else could she drink?" asked Bee. "She couldn't raise it herself."
"Weren't you a bit afraid?" Doctor Black had rolled up her sleeve, and was selecting a vaccine point carefully.
"At first I was; then I was sorry for her. I might look just as bad if I should have it, you know."
"You are not going to have it, my dear," he said brusquely. "Now give me that arm. All ready. Just a scratch, and it is over. Well, bless my soul! Raymond!"
For Beatrice had quietly fainted away. When consciousness returned to her the sweet freshness of the summer night was about her; the soft darkness enveloped her like a mantle, and she was being borne along carefully in someone's arms. For a time she lay, content to be still in the encircling arms, but as she became more herself wonder crept into her heart, and she put up her hand and touched the face above her.
"Father?" she whispered.
"Yes, my daughter."
"How came I here, and why do you carry me?"
"I am taking you home, Beatrice. You fainted. Do you not remember?"