CHAPTER XIII.
“BREAD CAST UPON THE WATERS.”
Allison’s first impulse was to scream for help. But she quickly conquered it, for she had a horror of becoming the center of a curious, gaping crowd upon a public thoroughfare.
Almost at the same moment she espied a policeman across the street, and beckoned him to come to her assistance; then, stooping over the senseless girl at her feet, tried to move her into a more comfortable position.
“What has happened?” queried the officer, as he appeared upon the spot. “A drunk, I reckon—eh?”
“No,” said Allison, flushing with indignation at his indifferent tone; “the girl’s arm is broken, and she has fainted.”
“Humph! then it’s a case for the hospital. I’ll ring up an ambulance,” was the perfunctory response.
Allison caught her breath sharply, for, like many others who are ignorant regarding such institutions, she had a perfect horror of a hospital.
“No,” she said quickly and decidedly, while she glanced up at a sign over a window in the next block, “Doctor Ashmore’s office is quite near—take her there.”