he put out his hand to feel her pulse, nodding in a satisfied sort of way.
"How how is little Dodo?" faltered Grace.
Dr. Morrison did not answer at once. He seemed to be studying Grace.
"How is she—much hurt?" Grace asked again.
"Well, we will hope for the best," he answered as cheerfully as he could. "I can't say for sure, but her left leg isn't in the shape I'd like to see it. I am afraid the horse stepped on it. But there, don't worry. We will hope for the best."
"Little Dodo's sister is my best chum," explained Grace, the tears coming into her eyes. "Oh, when I saw her running toward Prince I thought I would faint! Poor little dear! I called to her, but she would not mind."
"That was the trouble," explained Mrs. Watson, who had been ministering to Grace, "she seemed just wild to get out in the rain."
"Well, it may yet come out all right," said Dr. Morrison, "but it is not going to be easy. I don't believe you need me any more—er"
He paused suggestively.
"Miss Ford is my name," Grace supplied.
"Ah, yes, I am glad to know you. Now I must go back to the little one."
"Could I see her?" asked Grace, impulsively.
"I had rather not—now."
