"Go out on the porch and wait for me," she commanded breathlessly;
"you've got the motor, haven't you? I won't be but a minute."
She was, indeed, scarcely longer than that. They were almost instantly
speeding down the road together, while she asked, "Have you sent for
the doctor?"
"Yes, but there isn't any there yet. Dr. Wells was off on a confinement
case, and we've had to telephone to Wallacetown--she was perfectly
determined not to have one, anyway. Oh, Sylvia, what can it be? And why
should she want you so?"
"I don't know yet, dear."
"Do you suppose she's going to die?"
"No, I'm afraid--I mean I don't think she is. Why didn't I take better
care of her? Austin, can't you drive any faster?"
As they reached the house, she broke away from him, and ran swiftly up
the stairs. Mr. and Mrs. Gray were both standing, white and helpless with
terror, beside their daughter's bed. She was lying quite still when
Sylvia entered, but suddenly a violent spasm of pain shook her like a
leaf, and she flung her hands above her head, groaning between her
clenched teeth.
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