"Say! something's happened to Ford, I guess," Cecile cried, stopping
the car short of the porte-cochere.
"Run down and see," commanded Marian languidly.
But Prue hopped out of the roadster and started down the path
immediately. She and Lawford still had a few things in common. Mutual
affection was one of them.
"What's happened to him?" she cried. "You're Mrs. Gallup, aren't you?"
"I'm Bet Gallup--yes. You run call up Doc Ambrose from over to
Paulmouth. Your brother's got a bad knock on the head."
"And he's been overboard!" gasped Prue.
"I--I'm all right," stammered Lawford. "Let me lie down for a little
while. Don't need a doctor."
"You're as wet as a drowned rat," his sister said. "Come on up and get
some dry clothes, Ford. I'm sure you're awful kind, Mrs. Gallup. I
will telephone for the doctor at once."
"You bet she's kind! Good old soul!" murmured Lawford. "I'd have been
six fathoms deep if it hadn't been for Betty."
"She hauled you into the boat, did she?" Prue said in a sympathetic
tone.
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