At the gate, under the lacey roof of locust
leaves, she stood motionless, straining her ears. All was still. How
long ago was it that he had rushed away? More than an hour. Oh, no,
no; he could not have meant--! But all the same, she must find him:
"_I have had enough of it_." Under her breath she called his name.
Silence. She told herself distractedly that she was a fool, but
a moment later she fled down the hill. She must find Dr. King; he
would know what to do.
She was panting when she reached his gate, and after she had rung and
was beating upon the door with the palm of her hand, she had to cling
to the knob for support.
"Oh come; oh, hurry! Hurry!" she said, listening to Mrs. King's
deliberate step on the oilcloth of the hall.
"Where is Dr. King?" she gasped, as the door opened; "I want Dr.
King!"
Martha, in her astonishment at this white-faced creature with skirts
draggled by the dew and dust of the grass-fringed road, started back,
the flame of the lamp she carried flickering and jumping in the
draught. "What is the matter? Is David--"
"Oh, where is Dr. King? Please--please! I want Dr. King--"
William by this time was in the hall, and when he saw her face he,
too, said:
"David?"
"No. It's--May I speak to you a moment? In the office? I am alarmed
about--something."
She brushed past Mrs. King, who was still gaping at the suddenness of
this apparition from the night, and followed the doctor into the
little room on the left of the passage.
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