Helena drove
with the deftness of a practised hand, avoiding ruts, going softly
over rough places.
"Good!" said Buntingford to her more than once--"that was excellent!"
But the suffering of the men behind overshadowed everything else, and it
was with a big breath of relief that Buntingford at last perceived the
walls of the county hospital rising out of a group of trees in front of
them. Helena brought the car gently to a standstill, and, jumping out,
was ready to help as a V. A. D. in the moving of the men. The hospital
had been warned by telephone, and all preparations had been made. When
the two unconscious men were safely in bed, the Dansworth doctor turned
warmly to Helena:
"I don't know what we should have done without you, Miss Pitstone! But
you look awfully tired. I hope you'll go home at once, and rest."
"I'm going to take her home--at once," said Buntingford. "We can't do
anything more, can we?"
"Nothing. And here's the matron with a message."
The message was from the mayor of Dansworth. "Situation well in hand. No
more trouble feared.
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