"Ah, 'more haste less speed' this time, with a vengeance, Mr. Langdale. It's a pity you weren't more careful."
"It's my girl's birthday, and I had only just remembered it," murmurs father faintly. Oh, how poor Betty's conscience pricks her as she hears the words!
"Hem! bad job; bad job. A pair of sharp scissors, my dear," and the doctor turns to Betty, who flies to get them.
The doctor cuts away the clothing from the injured knee, and after a very brief examination declares that his patient must be taken to the hospital.
"I will send an ambulance for you immediately, Mr. Langdale. There is no help for it, I am afraid," he says, and takes his leave.
There is another dreadful interval of waiting. Mother continues to sob and rock herself to and fro. Bob takes up his stand by the window, on the look-out for the ambulance. He is truly sorry for father, yet, boy-like, feels all the painful importance of the position.
But Betty holds her father's hand, with eyes brimful of pitying love.
"Father, father," she whispers, "if I could only help you; if I could only bear some of the pain for you."
A faint smile flickers into his face, and the set features relax a little.
