"General, oh, General!" she cried, and buried her face in his fat
warm neck.
The men coughed, the women's faces twisted, but the little doctor
watched her intently.
"Move your leg," he said sharply. "Now the other. Hurt you? Not at
all?"
He turned to the young man in a white jacket, who had jumped from
the back of the ambulance.
"I thought so," he said. "Though it didn't seem possible. I saw the
thing go over her. Right over her apron--never touched her. Half an
inch more--"
"Please, is Miss--the other little girl--is she--"
This was Delia's old voice, and Caroline smiled happily at her.
"She's all right, Delia--here she is!"
Miss Honey limped across on one roller-skate, pale, but conscious of
her dramatic value, and the crowd drew a long breath of relief.
"You are a very brave girl," said the doctor, helping Delia to her
feet and tucking the General, who alternately growled and cooed at
his clothespin, into the perambulator. "You have undoubtedly saved
the lives of all three of these children, and their parents will
appreciate it, you may be sure. The way you sent that baby wagon
flying across the street...! Well, any time you're out of a job,
just come to me, that's all. Dr. Gibbs, West Forty-ninth.
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