Part 19 (1/2)

”No, he wasn't looking at the horse,” persisted Alice. ”He was looking at us. Perhaps he knew you, Estelle.”

”Why do you say that? I'm sure I never saw him before. Maybe it was you he was staring at.”

”No, it was you he was staring at, but I don't blame him. You are very striking looking to-day.”

”It's this dress. Isn't it quaint?”

”And pretty! Oh, but we mustn't talk so frivolously when that poor man may be dying. We must drive faster.”

”Talking isn't going to make the horse go any slower. In fact, I think maybe he'll go quicker to get the trip over with sooner so he can be rid of our chatter. But I don't think the poor man is badly hurt. He may bleed a lot, but they can hold that in check until we get the doctor.”

They drove on, and were presently in the village. They had been told where Dr. Wherry had gone--to a drugstore to get some medical supplies--and thither they made their way.

”Do you notice how every one is staring at us?” asked Alice, as they drove along the streets.

”They do seem to be,” admitted Estelle, looking for the drugstore. ”I guess it's the horse; he is so bony he has many fine points about him, as Russ said. And we're queer looking in these costumes ourselves.”

When they alighted at the pharmacy and started in, they became aware of the growing sensation they were creating. For a little throng had gathered in front of the store, and more men and boys came running up, to form in two lines--a living lane--through which Alice and Estelle had to pa.s.s.

”We certainly are creating a sensation,” gasped Alice, growing embarra.s.sed.

”Look! a regular bridal crowd,” said Estelle in a low voice.

Though they undeniably presented a pretty picture in their paint, powder, curls and hoopskirts, they were also an unusual one for that little country village.

”Look at the society swells!” cried one boy.

”Dat's de new fas.h.i.+on--makin' your nose look like a flour barrel!” added another.

”Aren't those dresses sweet?” sighed a girl.

”They must be the latest New York style,” added a companion. ”I heard that full skirts were coming in again.”

”Well, ours are certainly full enough,” murmured Alice, looking down at her swaying hoops.

And then some one guessed the truth.

”They're actresses--the movie actresses!” came the cry, and this attracted more attention than ever, for if there is one person about whom the American public is curious, it is the actor.

”Oh my!” exclaimed Estelle, ”now we are in for it. Hurry inside the store!”

The girls fairly ran into the friendly shelter, and some of the crowd attempted to follow, but the drug clerks barred the way, guessing what the excitement was about.

”Dr. Wherry!” gasped Alice. ”Is he here?”

”Right back there--in the prescription department,” a clerk said. ”Which of you is ill?”

”Neither one!” cried Estelle. ”We want him for a man out at Oak Farm.

He's been shot--an accident in the play. Tell him to hurry, please, and then show us some way of getting out through a side door. I can't face that crowd--this way,” and she looked down at her elaborate hoop-skirted costume, which might have been all right in the days of sixty-three, but which was unique at the present time.