Edith and John Part 20

"Talk louder?"

"I can't hear yet!"

"Who is this?"

"Ed-d-Edith?"

"G.o.d bless us!"

"Where are you?"

"At Millvale? Good gracious!"

"What the deuce are you doing there?"

"You were!"

"You did?"

"Ah, she is safe?"

"He is dead! Who is dead?"

"Mike Barton?"

"Killed! Accident!"

"Farmer brought you to Millvale, eh?"

"Coming in on the street cars, did you say?"

"I'll send Mr. Winthrope in a taxicab for you."

"Yes, he is here."

"Yes; he came out to direct a search for you."

"Wouldn't know where to look for you?"

"Never could have found you?"

"You wait there till he arrives."

"Well; I thought you would be glad."

"Do with the body?"

"Leave it there, of course."

"Yes; he will come at once."

"Good bye!"

Putting up the receiver to disconnect the phone, Mr. Jarney called up the main office of the taxicab company, and ordered a cab post haste to his residence. Then turning to John, he said:

"It is very strange; very strange! Miss Barton's brother was killed in an accident with my machine! Very strange, indeed."

John took the answer to the voice at the other end of the phone to mean a peremptory command for him to go; still he thought his services were not now particularly needed to conduct the lost ones home. Mr. Jarney simply wanted him to go and act as their body guard on this momentous night. John would have been glad of the opportunity to thank him for the new trust imposed in him had Mr. Jarney asked him to go; but as he did not make a request for his services, but a command instead, he took it to mean that he was to comply implicitly, as any faithful servant would have complied.

When the taxicab arrived, and after John had been admonished repeatedly as to how to proceed, and loaded down with wraps and robes and other things, he made his exit and went upon his mission.

Arriving at Millvale without incident, but feeling very much concerned as to how he should conduct himself with his charges, he found Edith and Star both laboring under great mental and physical strain, as a consequence of their experiences, with Star at that moment the worse of the two, by reason of the tragic ending of her brother. Both young ladies were bedraggled. Their fine clothes were bespattered with mud and their shoes soaked with water. They trembled from the strain, and shook from the cold. But John could do nothing at that hour to give them relief, except to wrap them up in blankets and bundle them into the cab; which he did with much tenderness and courteous behavior toward each, slighting neither in any little attention that would tend to their immediate comfort. Then, after giving orders for the disposition of the body of Mike Barton, he seated himself within the cab, and they were directly speeding homeward.

On the way, Edith related to John, with many a break in her story, of all that had befallen them since leaving the office that afternoon.

"A very sad ending, indeed, for you, Miss Barton," said John, after Edith had concluded.

Star was not of an emotional nature, consequently she bore up under the ordeal with great fort.i.tude. She felt very sad; naturally, very sad.

"It is a miracle that we both were not killed," said Edith. "The car was left a total wreck by the roadside. It struck a telegraph pole in making a turn, and Star was struck unconscious, while I was thrown to the road.

Star's brother was thrown at least forty feet away, so terrific was his driving."

"What impelled him to such a trick, do you suppose?" asked John.

"I cannot fathom his motive," answered Edith. "Nor I," said Star. "Poor boy!"

"Perhaps he was unawares of whom you were," suggested John; "and was out for a lark to give some one a scare."

"Poor boy!" said Star. "I will forgive him."

"Oh--my--I am so dizzy!" suddenly exclaimed Edith. "I do not know whether it is this car or my head that is whirling round so. Oh, o--o!"

She was sliding forward on her seat, and her head was falling to one side. She sighed. "Oh--o--o!" she uttered. Sighed; then was quiet.

In the darkness of the cab John could not discern her movements plainly; but he knew, by her heavy breathing, that something was wrong with her.

Star being in a very distressed condition herself, failed to understand or comprehend the suffering signs of Edith; so John, noting all these things, lent his personal attentions to Edith, who was just then in a mortal state of suspended animation.

John was very careful that he did not make himself promiscuous in either one's behalf, except when the most imminent danger was confronting them.

By the reflected lights of the streets, as they were whirled along, John caught a glimpse of Edith, and was not slow to see that she was in need of care from some source. He therefore caught her by the arms, just as she was senselessly keeling over, and raised her to a sitting posture.

As he lifted her up, her head fell to one side; but in a moment she roused herself and attempted to sit up straight. In another moment she lapsed unconscious, and limply declined into helplessness.

At first, John placed her head on the cus.h.i.+on in the corner of the cab.

Seeing this position made her look uncomfortable, he then put an arm around her, and laid her head upon his shoulder. Thus they rode for a brief time. Then he lifted up one of her gloved hands. Finding it wet and cold, with Star's a.s.sistance he removed the gloves. After having chafed her hands, and rubbing them together to start up a circulation brisker than appeared to be natural, he drew his own heavy gloves over her quivering fingers. After which Star removed Edith's shoes and stockings, and rubbed her cold damp feet, and wrapped a blanket around them. Shortly her blood resumed a freer circulation, and she roused herself, faintly asking where she was.

"We are on our way to your home," answered John, removing his arm from around her.

He acted voluntarily in this matter, always having the fear upon him that what he might be then doing for her would appear to be impertinent.

But she was growing more serious, and in spite of his desire to withdraw his arm from her support, he was compelled to hold her more firmly than before. She was now breathing heavily and her hot breath he could feel in his face as her head lay on his shoulder. She was like a child, and was beginning to mumble, and mutter inarticulate words, disconnected in their sequence, none of which could he form into intelligible sentences--except the two words, "Papa and mamma." Once he thought she was trying to say "Mr. Winthrope"; but he could not exactly tell. This troubled him some now, for his only thoughts toward her were of dutiful respect in this her hour of great trouble.