Nat wanted to stay with him--there were
plenty of divans and couches that might be used in the emergency--but Mrs.
White insisted upon caring for the boy herself. She noticed he was
becoming feverish, and so hurried the others off to bed that the house
might be quiet.
Dorothy took Ned's warm hand in hers and touched his forehead with her
lips. But she knew better than to utter one word--he must be quiet, very
quiet.
How strangely depressing was the house now with the gloom of sickness
upon it! The awful uncertainty of an accident, what the result might be,
how serious or trifling--every possibility seemed weighted with terrible
consequences.
Dorothy fell upon her knees beside her bed. Her heart was very full,
everything seemed dark and gloomy now. All the difficulties of yesterday
were engulfed in that one sorrow--Ned's accident. Dorothy seemed unable to
pray, and in her sadness came the thought of her own unwilling part in the
little tragedy.
"If only I had told Tom--asked him not to! But how could I do that?" she
argued against argument. "What would he think of Ned? Of me?"
A step in the hall roused her from her reverie. There was a slight tap on
the door, then Tavia entered. Although it was late she was still entirely
dressed, and her face showed she had been crying.
"Dorothy," she said, her voice trembling and the tears welling into her
eyes, "I must--go home!"
"Why?" asked Dorothy, surprised and startled.
Pages:
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135