"I think
we can ease her along a little now, and I need Miss Wheaton."
Jim pushed his hair back with a wet hand; cleared his throat.
"Sure. D'you want me to scrub up?" he asked huskily.
"Oh, no--no, my dear boy! Everything's going splendidly." The doctor
beckoned him in, and shut the door. "Now, Mrs. Studdiford," said he,
"we'll be all right here in no time!"
Julia did not answer; she did not open her eyes even when Jim took her
moist hot hand in one of his, and brushed back the lovely tumbled hair
from her wet forehead. She was breathing deep and violently, as if she
had been running. Presently she beat upon the bed with one clenched
fist, and began to toss her head from side to side. Then the stifled
moan began to escape from her bitten lips again, her face worked
pitifully, and she began to cry.
"Now, crowd it on, Jim!" Doctor Lippincott said, nodding toward the
chloroform.
"Breathe deep, breathe it in, my darling!" Jim urged, pouring the sweet,
choking stuff upon the little mask he held above the tortured face.
"You aren't--helping me--at all!" Julia muttered, in a deep hoarse
voice.
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