* * * * *
From away off in the dim distance Phineas heard a voice.
"Phineas! Phineas!"
Something snapped, and he seemed to be floating up, up, up, out of the
black oblivion of nothingness. He tried to speak, but he knew that he
made no sound.
"Phineas! Phineas!"
The voice was nearer now, so near that it seemed just above him. It
sounded like--With a mighty effort he opened his eyes; then full
consciousness came. He was on the ground, his head in Diantha's lap.
Diantha, bonnet crushed, neck-bow askew, and coat torn, was bending over
him, calling him frantically by name. Ten feet away the wrecked
automobile, tip-tilted against a large maple tree, completed the
picture.
With a groan Phineas closed his eyes and turned away his head.
"She's all stove up--an' now you won't ever say yes," he moaned. "You
wanted ter ride on an' on furever!"
"But I will--I don't--I didn't mean it," sobbed Diantha incoherently.
"I'd rather have Dolly twice over. I
like ter crawl. Oh, Phineas,
I hate that thing--I've always hated it! I'll say yes next week--to-
morrow--to-day if you'll only open your eyes and tell me you ain't
a-dyin'!"
Phineas was not dying, and he proved it promptly and effectually, even
to the doubting Diantha's blushing content.
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