"What is it, Dexie? What has happened?"
"Dear mamma, come back into the room, and I will tell you. There has been an accident, and papa is hurt. Oh, mamma, do not scream so! No, he is not killed; do not say it. Oh, hush! let me open your message. Mine is from Mr. Traverse, and he says papa is hurt and cannot be moved. Oh, mamma! do not scream so. You will terrify the children and make yourself ill."
"Oh, he is dead! My husband is killed!" she cried. "Why has this dreadful calamity come upon me?" and she wrung her hands and wept aloud.
"Oh, mamma, you must stop! Listen: this is what your message says, and it is signed by a railroad official:
'There has been a collision, and your husband is injured. It is impossible to move him in his present condition, but everything possible shall be done for his comfort and relief.'"
"Oh, mamma! let us go to him at once."
"Dexie, do you want to kill me? I could not survive the journey in the present state of my nerves; and does not the message say that everything shall be done for him? What could I do more?"
Another peal of the bell, and Dexie flew down to the door, where a brass-buttoned youth presented himself.
"I am sent to say that there is a train starting for the scene of the collision in fifteen minutes. If there is anyone here going down, they will have to hurry."