"That is very nice. Take good care of him, Mr. Traverse," and she gave him her hand as he said good-bye.
Her father bent his head and kissed her, saying playfully:
"Now, don't run off with the gardener, or do any other dreadful thing while I am gone, and I will try and get your commissions filled, even to the box of chocolates."
They stepped on the cars, and with the usual ear-splitting shriek the train moved away, leaving Dexie on the platform looking after them. The two men stood at the rear door and waved a farewell, and Dexie returned home, never thinking that she had seen her father well and strong for the last time.
Mr. Sherwood had not been away from home since they had moved to Lennoxville, and Dexie planned to have a dainty repast awaiting his return, and she was in the kitchen when a telegraph messenger appeared at the door.
"A telegram for Mrs. Sherwood, and one for Miss Dexie Sherwood."
Dexie tore hers open, and her heart seemed to stop beating as she read:
"There has been an accident, and your father is hurt, but not fatally. He cannot be moved at present. Can you come at once?
"Guy Traverse."
Dexie rushed up the stairs, her white face telling of trouble, and as soon as her mother saw her she asked in alarm: