Their route back led them over a winding road and before they left the main graveled highway Doctor Stevens put chains on his car. They ploughed into the mud, which sloshed up on the sides of the machine and splattered against the windshield until they had to stop and clean the glass.
Half way back to Rolfe they were stopped by a lantern waving in the road.
Doctor Stevens leaned out the window.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
A farmer stepped out of the night into the rays of the lights of the car.
“We need help,” he cried. “The storm destroyed our house and one of my boys was pretty badly hurt. We’ve got to get him to a doctor.”
“I’m Doctor Stevens of Rolfe,” said Margaret’s father as he picked up his case and opened the door.
“We need you doctor,” said the farmer.
Helen and Margaret followed them down the road and into a grassy lane.
Lights were flickering ahead and when they reached a cattle shed they found a wood fire burning. Around the blaze were the members of the farmer’s family and at one side of the fire was the blanket-swathed form of a boy of ten or eleven.