Actors and actresses -- Fiction; Courtship -- Fiction; World War, 1914-1918 -- Veterans -- Fiction
"No," called back Eleanor, scrambling out of the car. "What is the
matter?"
No answer being received, she clutched Quin's sleeve nervously.
"Something has happened! Look, the front hall is full of people. Oh, I'm
afraid to go in! I----"
"Steady on!" said Quin, with a firm grip on her elbow as he marched her
up the steps and into the hall.
Everything was in confusion. People were hurrying to and fro, doors were
slamming, excited voices were asking questions and not waiting for
answers. "What's Dr. Snowden's telephone number?" "Can't they get another
doctor?" "Has somebody sent for Randolph?" "Are they going to try to move
her?" everybody demanded of everybody else.
Eleanor pushed through the crowd until she reached the foot of the steps.
There, lying on the floor, with her towering white pompadour crushed
ignominiously against the newel-post, lay the one person in the house who
could have brought prompt order out of the chaos. On one side of her
knelt Miss Enid frantically applying smelling salts, while on the other
stood Miss Isobel futilely wringing her hands and imploring some one to
go for a minister.
Suddenly the buzz of excited talk ceased. Madam was returning to
consciousness. She groaned heavily, then opened one eye.
"What's the matter?" she demanded feebly. "What's all this fuss about?"
"You fell down the steps, mother. Don't get excited; don't try to move."
But Madam had already tried, with the result that she fell back with a
sharp cry of pain.
"Oh, my leg, my leg!" she groaned. "What are you all standing around like
fools for? Why don't you send Tom for the doctor?"
"Tom isn't with us any more, dearest," said Aunt Enid with trembling
reassurance, "and Dr. Snowden is out of town. But we are trying to get
Dr. Bean."
"I won't have Bean," Madam declared, clinching her jaw with pain. "I'll
send him away if he comes."
"Dr. Vaughn, then?" suggested Miss Enid tenderly.
"Vaughn nothing! Send for Rawlins. He's an old stick, but he'll do till
Dr. Snowden gets here."
"But, mother," protested Miss Isobel. "Dr. Rawlins lives in the country;
he can't get here for half an hour."
"Do as I tell you and stop arguing," commanded Madam. "Has anybody
telephoned Ranny?"
The two sisters exchanged significant glances.
"Their line is busy," said Miss Enid soothingly. "We will get him soon."
"I want to be taken upstairs," announced Madam; "I want to be put in my
own bed."
A buzz of protest met this suggestion, and a small, nervous man in
clerical garb, who had just arrived, came forward to add his voice to the
rest.
Madam glared at him savagely. "There'll be plenty of time for parsons
when the doctors get through with me," she said. "Tell some of those
able-bodied men back there to come here and take me upstairs."
Quin, who had been standing in the background looking down at the
formidable old lady, promptly came forward.
"I'll take you up," he said. "Which leg is hurt?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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