Frances' head drooped.
"What will his father think of me?" he added.
It was not of others' words she was thinking; it was what her own heart was telling her in great heavy throbs. "You have killed him! You killed him!"
She put her hands up dully to her ears, but the sound was only the louder.
"Frances!" Something in her face, her heavy drooping as she started up the stair frightened her father, "What are you going to do?"
"I am going out to Susan's; she sent for me to bring the doctor out."
"You'd better let him go alone."
"I'm sure Susan wants me, or she would never have given such a message. If there is anything I can do for her I ought to do it!" Her broken sentences were spoken from the stair as she went up.
When she came down the trap was waiting. Her father went out with her, put her into the vehicle and tucked the robes about her. The world was flooded with sunshine, the grass down in the folds of the hills was vividly green, the tree-tops, gray and brown, were tossing softly; the professor thrust a bill in his daughter's hand. "Tell the doctor to get whatever he thinks Susan might need."
Frances had one last word. "Don't telegraph yet!" she begged.