“Oh, Tom,” she exclaimed, with as much delight as the occasion would permit, and with gratitude in every note of her voice. “He came, just as you——Oh, where is he?” she broke off suddenly, as she noticed that Tom was not there.
It was then and not until then that a quick thought flashed upon Roy and he hurried out and around the house.
There, under the bay-window, lay a motionless form. Tom was bending over it and Roy could hear his quick, short breaths as he tried to control his emotion.
“Is he dead, Tom?” Roy asked softly.
“It’s—it’s my father.”
“Yes, I know. Is he dead?”
“Get the doctor—I’m glad it was me sent the message for him.”
It was another culmination of another triumph.
“I’m glad too, Tom.”
“They’ll have to see him—they’ll have to know now. You tell the doctor. I got to be loyal. Tell Mr.—Mr. Ellsworth he’s got to remember what he said, that there wasn’t no First Bridgeboro Troop when he was a boy—you heard him say that.”