There, by a white-faced Aunt Polly and a weeping
Nancy she was undressed tenderly and put to bed, while from the
village, hastily summoned by telephone, Dr. Warren was hurrying
as fast as another motor car could bring him.
"And ye didn't need ter more'n look at her aunt's face," Nancy
was sobbing to Old Tom in the garden, after the doctor had
arrived and was closeted in the hushed room; "ye didn't need ter
more'n look at her aunt's face ter see that 'twa'n't no duty that
was eatin' her. Yer hands don't shake, and yer eyes don't look as
if ye was tryin' ter hold back the Angel o' Death himself, when
you're jest doin' yer DUTY, Mr. Tom they don't, they don't!"
"Is she hurt--bad?" The old man's voice shook.
"There ain't no tellin'," sobbed Nancy. "She lay back that white
an' still she might easy be dead; but Miss Polly said she wa'n't
dead--an' Miss Polly had oughter know, if any one would--she kept
up such a listenin' an' a feelin' for her heartbeats an' her
breath!"
"Couldn't ye tell anythin' what it done to her?--that--that--"
Old Tom's face worked convulsively.
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