Again followed a long waiting, with the soothing voice of Miss Grant's able companion talking to her patient as she wrought with her.
There was a spell of dreadful nausea, but when it came I knew the worst was over.
The elderly lady came to the door, with a request for a hot-water bottle, which I got for her with alacrity.
At last she came out to me, and her kindly face was beaming.
"My dear, good boy," she said, as tears trickled down her cheeks, "she is lying peacefully and much better. In an hour or two, she will be up and around. Would you care to see her, just to put your mind at ease?"
"Indeed I would," I responded.
She led the way into the room, and there on the bed lay Miss Grant,—breathing easily,—alive,—life athrob in her veins.
A joyful reaction overwhelmed me, for, no matter how humble had been my part, I had been chosen to help to save her.
As I stood by her, her eyes opened;—great, light-brown eyes, bright and agleam as of molten gold. They roved the room, then they rested on me.
"What!" she groaned, "you still here? Oh!—go away,—go away."