“It’s all right,” Judy said soothingly. “Some little technical thing probably went wrong—”
“No, Judy. It wasn’t that. I am a phantom. I saw myself the way I really am. Oh, help me!” wailed Clarissa as she slumped forward and slipped to the floor.
“I’m sorry,” Judy gasped. “I tried to hold her.”
“It’s all right, Judy,” Pauline told her. “You did save her from a hard fall.”
“She’s ill. We must get her to the first-aid station at once.” The guide, obviously a little shaken herself, took charge. Two of the men carried Clarissa to a door with a red cross and the words: FIRST AID, lettered on it. Here she was left with an efficient, white-uniformed nurse who assured Judy that her friend would be all right, but that she must rest for half an hour.
“May we stay with her?” asked Flo. “I think she was frightened.”
“In that case,” replied the nurse, “it might be better for her to be alone until she’s fully recovered from the shock. What happened? Was the guide in any way at fault?”
“No,” Judy hastened to assure her. “In fact, she was very efficient. It was probably something technical. I don’t understand the inside workings of television very well.”
The nurse smiled. “Neither do I. The inside workings of the human mind are even more mysterious. This girl should see a doctor or a psychiatrist—”
“No-oo,” came a sob from Clarissa.