CHAPTER VI.
GRACE.
“DON’T cry,” Phronsie was saying; “because if you do, I cannot help you.”
“She has told everything—just every single thing, Charley,” announced Bella, tragically turning around to him.
Charley Swan stood like a statue, with no eyes for any one but Phronsie. She turned a grave face on him. “I’m afraid she’s badly hurt,” she said. “I think you will have to get Dr. Phillips, Mrs. Higby.”
“It’s only my foot,” said Grace with a little moan.
“Let me go for him,” begged Charley, coming out of his frozen state.
“One of the men’ll go,” said Mrs. Higby. “La! don’t you stir a mite.” She went to the door, gave the message, and came back with a sigh of relief. “You poor child, you,” bending over Grace’s foot. “You must have turned it clean over itself. There, there, the cold water’ll be the best we can do for it till the doctor gets here. My!” as her glance fell again on the dark circles under the blue eyes, and the elaborate frizzes; then she fell to coughing, and speedily betook herself to the farther end of the room.
“I’ll hold her,” she said presently, coming back. “Miss Phronsie, you’re wanted every single minute in the best room. Let me sit there where you be.”
Bella sprang to her feet, and blushed rose red. “I forgot you’d left the reception. Oh, do excuse me! And please, Miss Phronsie Pepper, don’t stay here any longer.”
“I shall stay,” said Phronsie, “till I see that she is better.”