She ran to the front door to summon the nearest neighbour, and she
remembered then, with relief, that the nearest neighbour was Doctor
Churchill, the young physician who had been called in to see her mother
the evening before.
She flew across the narrow lawn between her own house and that where the
new doctor had set up his office, and rang imperatively. The door
opened, and Doctor Churchill, hat and case in hand, evidently on his way
to a patient, stood before her.
What he thought of the figure before him, with its riotous curly black
hair, brilliant eyes, pale dark cheeks, dusty pinafore, a singular
smudge upon the forehead, and sleeves rolled up to the elbows, nobody
would have known from his manner, which instantly expressed a friendly
concern.
Charlotte could only gasp, "Oh, come--quick!"
He followed her, stopping to ask no questions. At the open cellar door
Charlotte stood aside to let him pass.
"Down there--my sister!" she breathed.
"Bring a light, please," said the doctor, and he disappeared down the
stairs. Charlotte lighted a little kitchen lamp and came after him.
Pages:
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45