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“That man is drunk,” she said, quite aloud. “He cannot make it! He can’t possibly–ah-h-h!”

Her voice broke on a gasp, and she pressed one hand tight over her eyes. For with swift and terrible precision the accident had indeed come to pass. The car skidded, turned, hung for a sickening second on one wheel, struck the stone of the roadside fence with a horrible grinding jar and toppled heavily over against the bank.

When Susanna uncovered her eyes again, and before she could move or cry out in the dumb horror that had taken possession of her, she saw a man in golfing wear run from the Porters’ gate opposite; and another motor, in which Susanna recognized the figure of a friend and neighbor, Dr. Whitney, swept up beside the overturned one. When she ran, as she presently found herself running, to the spot, other men and women had gathered there, drawn from lawns and porches by this sudden projection of tragedy into the gayety of their Saturday afternoon.

“Hurt?” gasped Susanna, joining the group.

“The man is–dead, Billy says,” said young Mrs. Porter, in lowered tones, with an agitated clutch of Susanna’s arm. “And, poor thing! she doesn’t realize it, and she keeps asking where her chauffeur is and why he doesn’t come to her!”

“Wouldn’t you think people would have better sense than to keep a man like that!” added another neighbor, Dexter Ellis, with a bitterness born entirely of nervousness. “He was drunk as a lord! Young and I were just coming out of my side gate–“

Every one talked at once–there was a confusion of excited comment. Somebody had flung a carriage robe over the silent form of the man as it lay tumbled in the dust and weeds; Susanna glanced toward it with a shudder. Somehow she found herself supporting the car’s other occupant, the woman, who was half sitting and half lying on the bank where she had fallen. The woman had opened her eyes and was looking slowly about the group; she had pushed away the whiskey the doctor held to her lips, but she looked sick and seemed in pain.

“I had just put the baby down when I heard Dex shout–” Susanna could hear Mrs. Ellis saying behind her in low tones. “Oh, it is, it’s an outrage–they should have regarded it years ago,” said another voice. “Merest chance in the world that we took the side gate,” Dexter Ellis was saying, and some man’s voice Susanna did not know reiterated over and over: “Well, I guess he’s run his last car, poor fellow; I guess he’s run his last car–“

“You feel better, don’t you?” the doctor asked his patient, encouragingly. “Just open your mouth and swallow this.” And Susanna said gently: “Just try it; you’ll feel so much stronger!”

The woman turned upon her a pair of eyes as heavy as a sick animal’s, and moistened her lips. “Arm,” she said with difficulty.

“Her arm’s broken,” said the doctor, in a low tone, “and I think her leg, too. Kane has gone to wire for the ambulance. We’ll get her right into town.”

“You can’t take her to town!” Susanna ejaculated, turning so that she might not be heard by the sufferer. “Take her in to my house.”

“The hospital is really the most comfortable place for her, Mrs. Fairfax,” the doctor said guardedly. “I am afraid there is internal injury. Her mind seems somewhat confused. You can’t undertake the responsibility–“

“Ah, but you can’t jolt the poor thing all the way into town–” Susanna began again. Mrs. Porter, at her shoulder, interrupted her in an earnest whisper:

“Sue, dear, it’s always done. It won’t take very long, and nobody expects you–“

“I know just how Susanna feels,” interrupted Mrs. Ellis, “but after all, you never can tell–we don’t know one thing about her–“

“She’ll be taken good care of,” finished the doctor, soothingly.

“Please–don’t let them frighten–my husband–” said the woman herself, slowly, her distressed eyes moving from one face to another. “If I could–be moved somewhere before he hears–“