“Lizzie, my sister, why are you here?” George asked.
“Oh, George! Gabriel fell down!” she replied, sobbing, her courage failing now that she had some dear ones to protect her. “Oh, Clarence, see how you find my darling! We are taking him to the city hospital, but because those carriages must pass first my darling may die here—bleeding to death!”
“Let me go for a physician immediately,” said Clarence.
“Wait,” George said, “Which is the nearest from here, Lizzie, your house or the hospital? We must take him to the nearest place.”
“The hospital is nearer, sir,” the driver answered.
“Then let us go the hospital,” George said, getting into the wagon beside his sister, shocked to find Gabriel in a situation which plainly revealed a poverty he had never imagined.
“I shall go for a surgeon, there might not be one at the hospital,” said Clarence. “I shall be there when you arrive.”
The wagon went so slowly that Clarence, with a doctor, overtook them before they reached the hospital. Meantime, Gabriel had whispered to Lizzie and George, in a few words, how he had fallen down.
On arriving at the hospital he was carried to the best room, with best attendance, two rooms adjoining were for his nurses, one to be occupied by Lizzie and the other by George and Clarence, for neither of them would leave Gabriel now.
The doctor would give no opinion as to his recovery. If he had internal injuries of a serious character, they might prove fatal, but of this it was impossible to judge at present. About eight o'clock Gabriel seemed to be resting a little more comfortably, and Lizzie took that opportunity to go to see her babies. She found them already asleep. The kind landlady had given them their supper and put them to bed. She told Lizzie of a good nurse who could be hired to take care of the baby, and that she would engage her to come the next morning. Lizzie thanked her, and then returned to her husband's bedside, and there, accompanied by George and Clarence, she passed the night.