Laura shook her head, to stop her mother from speaking of the handcuff,–“to make you walk through Market Street–while,” but she could get no further. The crowd surrounded them. And in the midst of the jostling and milling, the Doctor’s instinct rose stronger than his rage. He was fumbling for his medicine case, and trying to find something 572for Kenyon. The old hands were at the young pulse, and he said unsteadily:
“He’ll be around in a few minutes.”
Some one in the crowd offered a big automobile. The Doctor got in, waved to his daughter, and followed Mrs. Nesbit up the hill.
“You young upstart,” he cried, shaking his fist at Calvin as the car turned around, “I’ll be down in ten minutes and see to you!” The provost marshal turned his white steed and began gathering up his procession and his prisoners. But the spell was broken. The mind of the crowd took in an idea. It was that a shameful thing was happening to a woman. So it hissed young Joe Calvin. Such is the gratitude of republics.
In the court house, the provost marshal, sitting behind an imposing desk, decided that he would hold Mrs. Van Dorn under $100 bond to keep the peace and release her upon her own recognizance.
“Well,” she replied, “Little Joe, I’ll sign no peace bond, and if it wasn’t for my parents–I’d make you lock me up.”
Her hand was free as she spoke. “As it is–I’m going back to South Harvey. I’ll be there until this strike is settled; you’ll have no trouble in finding me.” She hurried home. As she approached the house, she saw in the yard and on the veranda, groups of sympathetic neighbors. In the hall way were others. Laura hurried into the Doctor’s little office just as he was setting Kenyon’s broken leg and had begun to bind the splints upon it. Kenyon lay unconscious. Mrs. Nesbit and Lila hovered over him, each with her hands full of surgical bandages, and cotton and medicine. Mrs. Nesbit’s face was drawn and anxious.
“Oh, mamma–mamma–I’m so sorry–so sorry–you had to see.” The proud woman looked up from her work and sniffed:
“That whippersnapper–that–that–” she did not finish. The Doctor drew his daughter to him and kissed her. “Oh, my poor little girl–they wouldn’t have done that ten years ago–”
“Father,” interrupted the daughter, “is Kenyon all right?”