In the morning Dorothy awoke early. It was scarcely light. It was the first time in her life she had woke to sorrow, and it seemed very dreadful. Yet Dorothy felt humble this morning, and not helpless as she had done last night. She felt as if Someone, much stronger than herself, was going to stand by her and help her through.
Dorothy's Project
Lying there thinking, many things seemed plain to her that she had not understood before, and a thought came into her head. It was her fault, and she was the one who should suffer; not father, nor mother, nor Dick. It would not be easy, for Dorothy did not like Miss Addiscombe, and she was afraid of her, but she must go to her.
Directly the thought came into her head Dorothy was out of bed and beginning to dress. And that mysterious clock which she had never heard before was just striking five when she stole like a little white ghost downstairs, carrying her shoes in her hand, and unbolting the side door, slipped out into a strange world which was still fast asleep.
Miss Addiscombe lived ten miles away, but Dorothy did not remember anything about that. All her thought was to get there as soon as possible. One thing, she knew the way, for the flower-show was held in her grounds every year, and Dorothy had always been driven there. It was a nearly straight road.
About ten o'clock that morning a gentleman was driving along the high-road when he suddenly pulled up his horse and threw the reins to the groom. It had been quite cool when Dorothy started, but now it was very hot, and there seemed no air at all. A little girl in a white frock was lying by the roadside.
He stooped over her and felt her pulse, and Dorothy opened large, startled blue eyes.
"What is it, my dear?" he said.
"I am dying, I think," said Dorothy. "Tell mother I did try."