"She is worse, doctor. You are to come—come at once!"
Then they raced back, and the old doctor mounted on his tall, raw-boned gray, came in no mean second.
When the morning broke it found Judy better. Relief had come to her at a critical moment, and an awkward crisis was safely passed.
A week later, almost herself again, she and Kit stood by the drive, while Joe led out Annie, harnessed to the little phæton.
"She is a proud steppin' beast, Master Kit and no mistake and have more spirit than a two-year-old."
"Yes, Joe; you are right."
When Judy was comfortably seated, and her cushions properly placed, Kit sprang in by her side and took the reins.
"What have you done about that tire, Joe?"
"Mended it, sir."
"Well — I am rather off wheeling for the present. The thing is yours, if you like. I shan't want it again. Here! mind your self, old girl. What are you up to?"
But Annie could not help it. With a snort of triumph she dashed down the drive and out into the road, and refused to be reined up until she had gone a mad mile or two.
Later, Kit explained:
"A wheel is right enough for sport, Judy, but you can't count on anything in trouble that doesn't know how to feel. Annie is good enough for me."
