Jo's throat was parched. The blood pounded in her temples. Tears from her tortured eyes ran down her face.
Only a step more——
She reached the sill. Gasping, she rested her burden on the sill for a moment, striving for breath. A cloud of smoke rolled over her, stifling, blinding.
Suppose Miss Emma were dead! One breath of fresh air——
Jo tried to lift the unconscious woman across the sill. Useless! Her strength had deserted her. Her head whirled dizzily. Only the grip of her hand on the window sill kept her on her feet.
"Oh, what shall I do! What shall I do?" she cried aloud in her impotence. "Help me, some one! Help me!"
As though in answer to her cry, a figure appeared on the shed outside the window.
"Jo, have you got her?" The voice was Nan's.
Jo cried in an agony of relief:
"Oh, I'm so glad you came, glad! Can you help me get her over the window sill?"