"No, you are not!" cried George. "You just hold yourself. I'll
have him out in a minute. Begin at his feet and rub the blood up
to his heart."
"They are swollen to a puff, he's got no circulation," said Kate.
"Oh, George, how could you ever hope to do anything for a man in
this shape, with MUSCULAR treatment?"
"You keep still and rub, for God's sake," he cried, frantically.
"Can't you see that I am ruined if he dies on this table?"
"No, I can't," said Kate. "Everybody would know that he was
practically dying when he came here. Nobody will blame you, only,
you never should have touched him! George, I AM going after Dr.
James."
"Well, go then," he said wildly.
Kate started. Mrs. Holt blocked the doorway.
"You just stop, Missy!" she cried. "You're away too smart, trying
to get folks in here, and ruin my George's chances. You just stay
where you are till I think what to do, to put the best face on
this!"
"He may not be really gone! The doctor might save him!" cried
Kate.
Mrs. Holt looked long at the man.
"He's deader 'an a doornail," she said. "You stay where you are!"
Kate picked her up by the shoulders, set her to one side, ran from
the room and down the street as fast as possible. She found the
doctor in his office with two patients. She had no time to think
or temporize.
"Get your case and come to our house quick, doctor," she cried.
"An old man they call Peter Mines came to see George, and his
heart has failed. Please hurry!"
"Heart, eh?" said the doctor. "Well, wait a minute. No use to go
about a bad heart without digitalis."
He got up and put on his hat, told the men he would be back soon,
and went to the nearest drug store. Kate followed. The men who
had been in the office came also.
"Doctor, hurry!" she panted. "I'm so frightened."
"You go to some of the neighbours, and stay away from there," he
said.
"Hurry!" begged Kate. "Oh, do hurry!"
She was beside him as they sped down the street, and at his
shoulder as they entered the room. With one glance she lurched
against the casing and then she plunged down the hall, entered her
room, closed the door behind her, and threw herself on the bed.
She had only a glance, but in that glance she had seen Peter Mines
sitting fully clothed, his hat on his head, his stick in his
hands, in her easy chair; the operating table folded and standing
against the wall; Mrs. Holt holding the camphor bottle to Peter's
nose, while George had one hand over Peter's heart, the other
steadying his head.