ll a little while ago," she explained in
hurried gasps. "Miss Nellie says it was something like an apoplectic
stroke. They have been telephoning everywhere to find me. It must have
happened just as I left the house. They have taken him home in an
ambulance. Hurry, Hardy!"

Except for Mary's shocked exclamation of sympathy and alarm, no word was
spoken until the house was reached. Mary ran up the stairs with Mrs.
Blythe, stood a moment in the upper hall when the other left her, and
then went on to the alcove at the end, which had been fitted up as a
little office. There she sat down to wait. Three physicians, personal
friends of Dudley Blythe, were in the room with him. The housemaid was
running back and forth getting what was necessary, and the next door
neighbor had come in.

There was nothing that Mary could do, and the moments of waiting seemed
endless. A programme of the afternoon's meeting lay on the desk, and
from time to time she glanced at it nervously, and then at the clock.
The time for the first speech passed. The second one must have been well
under way when Mrs. Blythe came out into the hall and saw her sitting in
the alcove. Mary started up and went towards her impulsively, both hands
out.

"Oh, isn't there something I can do?" she whispered.

"Not in there," was the answer in a low tone. "The doctors give me
every encouragement to believe that he will come out of this all right,
but I don't know--I'm so frightened and upset."

She passed her hand across her eyes, as if trying to remember something,
then exclaimed, "It's just come to me! I had forgotten about that
meeting. It's almost time for me to go on to speak, but, of course, I
can't do that now. I couldn't leave him in the critical condition he is
in, no matter what is at stake. There's only one thing to do, and that
is to send you in my place. _You'll_ have to go, Mary, and tell them why
I couldn't come, and explain what it is that--"

"Oh, Mrs. Blythe!" interrupted Mary, aghast. "I _couldn't_! I couldn't
possibly! There's not a moment to prepare for it!"

"But you _must_," was the answer in a tone so firm and compelling that
it brooked no denial.

"There's no other way out--you know every phase of the situation. You've
explained it over and over in your letters and to small audiences. Your
sympathies have just been worked up to white heat by Dena's accident--
Oh, you're _splendidly_ prepared, and you can't fail me now, Mary. Not
at a time