"Father, you must not; he would never understand his trying to reach home last night."
"Neither do I!"
"You'll hear soon enough, if there's anything to hear."
"I shall be uneasy until I do."
Uneasy! Frances worked that morning as she had never done in her life, swept, dusted, cleaned from one room to another. Susan would not have allowed the labor for an hour; Roxie was glad enough to get it done for her. Frances worked, piling up the moments, worked, and yet heard every footstep in the corridor outside; at each fresh footfall her heart beat to suffocation, then as they died away she drew long breaths and turned to her tasks. At last, beyond the noon, the telephone rang. Frances had the receiver at her ear, before the ringing stopped.
"Hello!" she called, "who is it?"
"Frazier!" The receiver almost fell from her hand.
"Well!" and over the long distance wire faintly was coming, "that old woman, Susan, sent a boy over here just now, and said to 'phone you to come out there right away and bring the doctor!"
"Bill," said the girl to herself, with a sobbing sigh of relief.
"All right!" she called, "I'll come at once!"