Mother was coming out at
the front door, and she looked just the way she did when we got a
telegram once saying that Grannie was very ill. Jerry jumped off the
running-board before the automobile stopped, and he let Mother hug
him right there in the middle of the path, which is a thing he
generally hates. By that time our man and the chauffeur were lifting
Greg and the mattress out, and Mother let go of Jerry and stood
quite still, with her face all white and hollow-looking. We all
began talking at once, and the Bottle Man managed to tell Mother
more about everything in a few minutes than you would think
possible.
He and the automobile man, who still looked flabbergasted, put Greg
on the big bed in mother's room while she was telephoning to Dr.
Topham. We all felt fidgetty and unsettled until Dr. Topham came,
which was really very soon. I think he must have broken all the
speed rules. Jerry and I, who had put on some other clothes, sat in
the living-room with the Bottle Man while the doctor set Greg's arm,
which was fractured. Mother stayed with Greg. The Bottle Man told us
things about the war and his island, and he played soft, wonderful
music on the piano to make us forget about Greg and the Sea Monster
and all the awful things that had happened.
CHAPTER XII
It was the queerest topsy-turvy morning I ever spent.
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