After that Eve’s voice demanding water held all Jim’s attention. And while Peter procured a cupful, he lifted her gently in his arms and carried her into the parlor, and laid her on an old horsehair settee, propping her carefully into a sitting position. When the water was brought she drank thirstily, and then, closing her eyes, sank back with something like a sigh of contentment.
But with the first touch of the wet flannel which Jim again applied to her head she looked up.
“I fell on the coal box,” she said hastily. And before Jim could answer Peter spoke.
“That’s how we guessed,” he said kindly. “Maybe you were stooping for coal––sure.”
“Yes, yes. I was stooping for coal for the kitchen stove. I must have got dizzy. You needn’t send for the doctor. I’m all right, and the bleeding will stop. I’ve just got a headache. Please don’t send for Will; I’m glad you haven’t. He’d only be alarmed for––for nothing––and really I’m all right. Thank you, Jim, and you too, Peter. You can’t do anything more. Really you can’t and I don’t want to spoil your evening. I–––”
“We’re going to wait for the Doc, Eve,” said Jim, firmly.
Her eagerness to be rid of them was painfully evident, and so unlike her.
“Yes,” agreed Peter, “we better wait for the Doc, Eve. You see we came down to pay you a party call.”
“A party call?”
“Yes. Y’see Jim rode in from the ‘AZ’s’ to pay you a––party call.”