“What is the matter?” said another voice, and Fred Dirom came hastily up. “Why, doctor, what has happened—Miss Dempster?”—he said this with an involuntary cry of surprise and alarm. “I am afraid this is very serious,” he cried.
“Not so serious as it soon will be if we stand havering,” cried the doctor. “Get something, a mattress, to put her on. Man, look alive. There’s a cottage close by. Ye’ll get something if ye stir them up. Fly there, and I’ll stay with them to give them a heart.”
“Oh, doctor, you’re very kind—we’ve perhaps not been such good friends to ye as we might——”
“Friends, toots!” said the doctor, “we’re all friends at heart.”
Meantime the stir of an accident had got into the air. Miss Beenie’s cries had no doubt reached some rustic ears; but it takes a long time to rouse attention in those regions.
“What will yon be? It would be somebody crying. It sounded awfu’ like somebody crying. It will be some tramp about the roads; it will be somebody frighted at the muckle bull——” Then at last there came into all minds the leisurely impulse—“Goodsake, gang to the door and see——”
Janet Murray was the first to run out to her door. When her intelligence was at length awakened to the fact that something had happened, nobody could be more kind. She rushed out and ran against Fred Dirom, who was hurrying towards the cottage with a startled face.
“Can you get me a mattress or something to carry her upon?” he cried, breathless.
“Is it an accident?” said Janet.
“It is a fit. I think she is dying,” cried the young man much excited.