Call Doctor Buller for me,
and let Doctor Grayson know I may want him."
Rushing at the completion of his dressing he gave a hurried explanation,
in answer to his wife's anxious inquiry, "It isn't Anne Linton?"
"It's worse, it's Jord King. He's had a bad accident--confound his
recklessness! I'm afraid he's made a mess of it this time for fair,
though I can't be sure till I get there."
"Where is he?" Ellen's face had turned pale.
"At the hospital. His man Aleck is hurt, too. Call Johnny, please, and
have him bring the car around and go with me."
Ellen flew, and five minutes later watched her husband gulp down a cup
of the strong coffee Cynthia always made him at such crises when, in
spite of fatigue, he must lose no time nor adequately reenforce his
physical energy with food.
"Oh, I'm so sorry you couldn't rest to-night," she said as he set down
the cup and, pulling his hat over his eyes, picked up the heavy surgical
bags.
"Couldn't, anyway, with the universe on my mind, so I might as well keep
going," was Burns's gruff reply, though the kiss he left on her lips was
a long one and spoke his appreciation of her tender comradeship.
She did not see him again till morning, though she lay awake many hours.
He came in at daylight; she heard the car go in at the driveway, and,
rising hurriedly, was ready to meet him when he came into the living
room downstairs.
"Up so early?" questioned Burns as he saw her.
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