Mother | Page 8

once--keep still, every one of
you!" she said angrily, shaking various shoulders as she went with such
good effect that the voice of the woman in sealskins could be heard by
the time Margaret reached her.
"I don't think she's badly hurt!" said this woman, nervously and eagerly.
She was evidently badly shaken, and was very white. "Do quiet them,
can't you?" she said, with a sort of apprehensive impatience. "Can't we
take her somewhere, and get a doctor? Can't we get out of this?"
Margaret took the child in her own arms. Little Dorothy roared afresh,
but to Margaret's unspeakable relief she twisted about and locked her
arms tightly about the loved teacher's neck. The other woman watched
them anxiously.
"That blood on her frock's just nosebleed," she said; "but I think the car

went over her! I assure you we were running very slowly. How it
happened--! But I don't think she was struck."
"Nosebleed!" Margaret echoed, with a great breath. "No," she said
quietly, over the agitated little head; "I don't think she's much hurt.
We'll take her in. Now, look here, children," she added loudly to the
assembled pupils of the Weston Grammar School, whom mere
curiosity had somewhat quieted, "I want every one of you children to
go back to your schoolrooms; do you understand? Dorothy's had a bad
scare, but she's got no bones broken, and we're going to have a doctor
see that she's all right. I want you to see how quiet you can be. Mrs.
Porter, may my class go into your room a little while?"
"Certainly," said Mrs. Porter, eager to cooperate, and much relieved to
have her share of the episode take this form. "Form lines, children," she
added calmly.
"Ted," said Margaret to her own small brother, who was one of Mrs.
Porter's pupils, and who had edged closer to her than any boy
unprivileged by relationship dared, "will you go down the street, and
ask old Doctor Potts to come here? And then go tell Dorothy's mother
that Dorothy has had a little bump, and that Miss Paget says she's all
right, but that she'd like her mother to come for her."
"Sure I will, Mark!" Theodore responded enthusiastically, departing on
a run.
"Mama!" sobbed the little sufferer at this point, hearing a familiar
word.
" Yes, darling, you want Mama, don't you?" Margaret said soothingly,
as she started with her burden up the schoolhouse steps. "What were
you doing, Dorothy," she went on pleasantly, "to get under that big
car?"
"I dropped my ball!" wailed the small girl, her tears beginning afresh,
"and it rolled and rolled. And I didn't see the automobile, and I didn't
see it! And I fell down and b-b-bumped my nose!"

"Well, I should think you did!" Margaret said, laughing. "Mother won't
know you at all with such a muddy face and such a muddy apron!"
Dorothy laughed shakily at this, and several other little girls, passing in
orderly file, laughed heartily. Margaret crossed the lines of children to
the room where they played and ate their lunches on wet days. She shut
herself in with the child and the fur-clad lady.
"Now you're all right!" said Margaret, gayly. And, Dorothy was
presently comfortable in a big chair, wrapped in a rug from the
motor-car, with her face washed, and her head dropped languidly back
against her chair, as became an interesting invalid. The Irish janitor was
facetious as he replenished the fire, and made her laugh again. Margaret
gave her a numerical chart to play with, and saw with satisfaction that
the little head was bent interestedly over it.
Quiet fell upon the school; the muffled sound of lessons recited in
concert presently reached them. Theodore returned, reporting that the
doctor would come as soon as he could and that Dorothy's mother was
away at a card-party, but that Dorothy's "girl" would come for her as
soon as the bread was out of the oven. There was nothing to do but
wait.
"It seems a miracle," said the strange lady, in a low tone, when she and
Margaret were alone again with the child. "But I don't believe she was
scratched!"
"I don't think so," Margaret agreed. "Mother says no child who can cry
is very badly hurt."
"They made such a horrible noise," said the other, sighing wearily. She
passed a white hand, with one or two blazing great stones upon it,
across her forehead. Margaret had leisure now to notice that by all signs
this was a very great lady indeed. The quality of her furs, the glimpse
of her gown that the loosened coat showed, her rings, and most of all
the tones of her voice, the authority of her manner, the well-groomed
hair and skin and hands, all