“Is she much hurt?”
“How did it happen?”
“How did she come to fall?” everybody was asking of her father or of each other, as they fell back from the drawing-room door to let him enter.
He did not seem to hear or heed them: his attention was wholly occupied with her.
“Am I giving you pain?” he asked in tenderest tones.
“Very little,” she answered, and her voice sounded quite natural now.
He sat down with her on a sofa, Rose, Mildred, Dr. Landreth, and Mr. Travilla gathering round.
“Where are you hurt, dear child?” the doctor asked.
“Only my knee, sir, and I don’t think it’s more than bruised,” she said, looking up into his face with a faint smile, “and I’m ashamed to have frightened you all so.”
But her head dropped on her father’s shoulder as she spoke and she grew deathly pale.