Maybe that was it! The Doc! Of course, she loved him--she had loved him ever since she had known him. There was no secret about that--she loved him fiercely, passionately, more than she loved anything else in the world, with all the love she was capable of--more than he loved her--he seemed to accept her, too often, so casually, so indifferently, so much as a matter of course. He was so confidently and complacently sure of her--and she was not at all sure of him. She was only sure that he was quite right in being sure--she couldn't help loving him if she tried. She had hardly seen anything of him since that night in the Roost before he had left for Needley--and he hadn't seemed to care much whether she did or not. That talk about playing the game and taking no chances was all bosh--there had been plenty of chances where it wouldn't have hurt the game any. Perhaps the little jolt she had given him last night, turning the tables a little, would wake him up a bit. Perhaps, as the Flopper had said, he would come out to-night, and-- "Helena! Helena!" Helena sat suddenly upright--the noise of the surf muffled the sound of the voice, but that was probably Doc now--she could hear footsteps running from the direction of the cottage. Deliberately, Helena leaned back again against the rock, took out a cigarette and with no attempt to shade the flame of the match, rather to use it as a challenging beacon, held it to the cigarette--but for the second time she flung both match and cigarette hurriedly away. It wasn't Madison at all--it was only the Flopper. "Say!" gasped the Flopper, blowing hard. "Why can't youse answer when yer called? Wot you tryin' ter do--light a bonfire ter save yer voice? Say, youse wanter get a wiggle on--beat it--quick! Dey're after you." "What?" cried Helena sharply, jumping to her feet. "After me? Who? What do you mean?" "I dunno," said the Flopper with sudden imperturbability--and evidently quite pleased with the agitation he had caused. "He talks like his mouth was full, an' he's got a scare t'rown inter him so's his teeth have got de jiggles." Helena caught the Flopper's arm and shook him angrily. "What are you talking about--what is it?" she demanded fiercely. "It's de porter from de private car," said the Flopper, wriggling away from her. "He drove out here. De lady's on de toboggan--sick. She's askin' fer youse an'--" Helena waited for no more. She raced to the cottage and around to the front. A wagon was standing before the porch; the negro porter on the seat. "What is it, Sam?" she called anxiously, as she came up. "Is Mrs. Thornton seriously ill?" "Yas--yas'um, miss," Sam answered excitedly. "I done feel in mah bones she's gwine to die. Miss Harvey she done tole me to get a team an' drive foh you-all like de debbil." Without waste of words, Helena clambered in beside him. "Then drive," she said shortly. "Drive as fast as you can."