“I’ve always tried to tell you that!” Mrs. Martin exclaimed with a touch of maternal pride.
“But, Father,” chimed in Doris, clasping her father’s other hand, “just what was it that happened to you?”
“It’s not much to tell, Dorrie, it all happened so quick. Archie and I were sitting together in the back seat of the bus chatting, after we left the station. We had gone but a few blocks when I happened to notice that the driver didn’t stop as we passed by River Street, and I thought it was strange, as a lady waiting there had hailed to him, but he seemed to take no notice of her. Suddenly, as I was just about to mention it to Archie, the poor fellow collapsed, and of course we were all thrown into a panic. No one seemed to know what to do to stop it, and by that time we were running wild. Then, I chanced to look ahead and there was Westy standing in the middle of the street waving his arms frantically. Naturally I forgot all else and got up out of the seat intending to start for the front of the bus. Previously we had all been seated, as the car, swerving from one side of the street to the other, prevented us from keeping on our feet. Archie, meanwhile, had been quaking with fear and I did my best to calm him, but, as I was saying, when I saw Westy I got up and Archie evidently misinterpreted my intention for he arose also. I suppose he didn’t know what he was doing—panic-stricken, I guess, but he pushed me aside to try and get to the front of the bus first and in doing so knocked me backwards, throwing me against the rear window. My head must have gone clear through it, for I could hear the crash of glass and then I seemed to strike something sharp. I don’t remember anything after that.”
“Miss Doris Martin, a Mr. Captroop is downstairs and wishes to see you!” the nurse said, entering the room.
“If you’ll be so kind, Miss Treat, will you tell him I’m not at home and that my father is doing nicely?”
“Surely, I’m only too glad to,” the nurse replied, “and now if you will let Mr. Martin rest for a while, you can see him again in the morning.”
“Before you go,” Mr. Martin said, “I want to tell Westy that he can do as he wants to, providing he comes back next fall determined to get through school as quick as he can and get to business instead of wasting his summers hereafter.”
“Do you mean, Father,” Westy asked breathlessly, “that I can ask Artie? Do you mean that?”
“Something like that,” Mr. Martin answered.
Westy grasped his father’s hand and impetuously stooped and kissed him. Rushing out of the room and down the stairs he flung his coat and hat on in the hall and hurried to tell the news to Artie!