Philip who had forced the girls to keep their seats
saw, in a flash, the new danger, and sprang to avert
it. In a second more those infuriated men would
be over the benches and crushing Ruth and Alice under
their boots. He leaped upon the bench in front
of them and struck out before him with all his might,
felling one man who was rushing on him, and checking
for an instant the movement, or rather parting it,
and causing it to flow on either side of him.
But it was only for an instant; the pressure behind
was too great, and, the next Philip was dashed backwards
over the seat.
And yet that instant of arrest had probably saved
the girls, for as Philip fell, the orchestra struck
up “Yankee Doodle” in the liveliest manner.
The familiar tune caught the ear of the mass, which
paused in wonder, and gave the conductor’s voice
a chance to be heard—“It’s a
false alarm!”
The tumult was over in a minute, and the next, laughter
was heard, and not a few said, “I knew it wasn’t
anything.” “What fools people are
at such a time.”
The concert was over, however. A good many people
were hurt, some of them seriously, and among them
Philip Sterling was found bent across the seat, insensible,
with his left arm hanging limp and a bleeding wound
on his head.
When he was carried into the air he revived, and said
it was nothing. A surgeon was called, and it
was thought best to drive at once to the Bolton’s,
the surgeon supporting Philip, who did not speak the
whole way. His arm was set and his head dressed,
and the surgeon said he would come round all right
in his mind by morning; he was very weak. Alice
who was not much frightened while the panic lasted
in the hall, was very much unnerved by seeing Philip
so pale and bloody. Ruth assisted the surgeon
with the utmost coolness and with skillful hands helped
to dress Philip’s wounds. And there was
a certain intentness and fierce energy in what she
did that might have revealed something to Philip if
he had been in his senses.
But he was not, or he would not have murmured “Let
Alice do it, she is not too tall.”
It was Ruth’s first case.
Washington’s delight in his beautiful sister
was measureless. He said that she had always
been the queenliest creature in the land, but that
she was only commonplace before, compared to what she
was now, so extraordinary was the improvement wrought
by rich fashionable attire.
“But your criticisms are too full of brotherly
partiality to be depended on, Washington. Other
people will judge differently.”
“Indeed they won’t. You’ll
see. There will never be a woman in Washington
that can compare with you. You’ll be famous
within a fortnight, Laura. Everybody will want
to know you. You wait—you’ll
see.”
Laura wished in her heart that the prophecy might
come true; and privately she even believed it might—for
she had brought all the women whom she had seen since
she left home under sharp inspection, and the result
had not been unsatisfactory to her.
