loved.

"I'll go with Grace," volunteered Amy, in answer to Betty's request for
water. "I don't suppose we can find any, but we'll try."

The two girls hurried off, leaving Mollie and Betty to loosen the woman's
collar and rub her cold hands.

"Betty, Betty, is she dead?" Mollie was crying for perhaps the hundredth
time, when the woman herself answered the question by opening her eyes and
looking vacantly about her.

"Who--are--you?" she queried faintly, struggling to rise.

"Oh, please don't try to get up just yet," Betty pleaded, looking very
sweet and charming in her solicitude. "I don't think you're strong
enough--"

But the woman seemed of a different mind, and made such a desperate effort
to raise herself that Betty had no alternative but to help her to her
feet.

The girls supported the unsteady little figure while the dim old eyes
roved questioningly about.

"I--got--hurt!" she gasped, and then quite suddenly fainted again.

"Oh, Betty!" moaned Mollie, her face white with pity. "She's hurt worse,
much worse, than we thought she was! Oh, what shall we do?"