"She's had a stroke," he said, still with that urgent and hurried air, "and Joseph--poor old fellow, he was completely broken up--said that she had been begging them to get hold of you!" Norma had gotten into the familiar front seat, but now she stayed him with a quick hand. "Wait a minute, Chris, I'll run up and tell Aunt Kate where I am going!" she said. "She's gone out. There's nobody there!" he assured her, glancing up at the apartment windows. "I knew you would be coming in, so I waited." "Then I'll telephone!" the girl said, settling herself again. "But what do you suppose she wants me for?" she asked, returning to the subject of the summons. "Have they--will they--send for Aunt Annie and Leslie, do you suppose?" "Leslie is in Florida with the Binneys, most unfortunately. Annie was in Baltimore yesterday, but I believe she was expected home to-day. Joseph said he had gotten hold of Hendrick von Behrens, and I told my clerk to get Acton, and to warn Miss Slater that Alice isn't to be frightened." "But, Chris--do you suppose she is dying?" "I don't know--one never does, of course, with paralysis." "Poor Aunt Alice--it will almost kill her!" "Yes, it will be terribly hard for her, harder than for any one," he answered. And Norma loved him for the grave sympathy that filled his voice, and for the poise that could make such a speech possible, under the circumstances, without ever a side glance for her. Then they reached the old house, ran up the steps, and were in the great dark hallway that already seemed to be filled with the shadow of change. Whispering, solemn-faced maids went to and fro; Joseph was red-eyed; the heavy fur coats of two doctors were flung upon chairs. Norma slipped from her own coat. "How is she, Joseph?" "I hardly know, Miss. You're to go up, please, and Regina was to tell one of the nurses at once that you had come, Miss." He delivered his message impassively enough, but then the human note must break through. "I've been with her since she was married, Miss--nigh forty years," the old man faltered, "and I'm afraid she is very bad--very bad, indeed!" "Oh, I _hope_ not!" Norma went noiselessly upstairs, Chris close behind her. Did she hope not? She hardly knew. But she knew that all this was strangely thrilling--this rush through the tossing windy afternoon to the old house, this sense of being a part of the emergency, this utter departure from the tedious routine of life.