The secret of the Mansion

must have been on fifteen minutes, now," she told herself after a while. "I’ll have to take it off for a minute." Gratefully she saw that the swelling in Bobby’s toe had not yet spread to his foot, so she replaced the tourniquet where she had put it originally, sucking and spitting all the time. Every now and then Bobby complained that his toe felt like it was on fire, so Trixie knew there could be no doubt, now, that he had been bitten by a copperhead.
    It seemed like hours before they heard the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway, and every minute of the long wait Trixie lived in her imagination with old Mr. Frayne and his wife on that lonely road in a car that wouldn’t start. "I guess I’d go crazy, too, if that happened to me," she admitted, almost hysterically. "Oh, Bobby, Bobby, please, you’ve just got to get well!"
    Dr. Ferris came quickly into the room and crossed over to where Trixie was kneeling beside the little boy. "How long has this tourniquet been on?" he asked as he carefully examined the bleeding, swollen toe.
    "About fifteen minutes for the second time," Trixie said anxiously as she glanced at the clock over the fireplace.
    Dr. Ferris opened his black leather case. "Then you’ve applied suction for half an hour?" As Trixie nodded, he removed the tourniquet and took out his hypodermic syringe. "Then that’s all we need of that," he said quietly. "Now I want to wrap this boy in a blanket and pack the toe in ice. Then we’ll give him some nice hot tea, just in case he has suffered any shock."
    Trixie had to clench her teeth to keep them from chattering as she got the blanket and ice and put water on to boil. She left Honey in the kitchen making the tea and when she came back into the living room, the doctor was repacking his kit. He smiled at her reassuringly.
    "You did a good job, Trixie," he said, "so I only gave him a little of the antivenin. Lucky I had a fresh supply on hand. Ordered some last week in case those boys at that camp upriver got into trouble."
    "Dr. Ferris gave me a shot," Bobby told Trixie with a weak little grin. "And I didn’t yell. I never yell when I get a shot."
    Trixie swallowed hard. "You’re a very brave boy, Bobby," she said softly. "Very, very brave." Trixie’s knees were shaking now.
    Honey came in with the tray then, and her hands were shaking so that the cup and saucer rattled against each other. When Bobby had finished drinking the hot tea through a straw, the kindly old doctor lifted him gently and carried him carefully upstairs to his bed. "We’ll have to keep you quiet for a few days, young man," he said, "and then you’ll be as good as new." He tucked blankets around the little boy and turned to Trixie.
    "Just let me examine your mouth, Trixie," he said, producing a little flashlight from his pocket. "Ah, good, good. There aren’t any cuts or sores."
    Trixie heard the station wagon in the driveway then, and she ran out to tell her mother what had happened. Mrs. Belden’s face was pale as Honey’s as she hurried past Trixie into the house and up the stairs. Dr. Ferris was assuring her that there was nothing to worry about when Trixie followed her mother into Bobby’s room. Trixie’s legs were shaking again, and she bit her lips to keep back the tears.
    "It was all my fault," she kept telling herself. "All my fault."
    "Trixie worked so quickly with the tourniquet and the cut and suck method," Dr. Ferris was saying cheerfully, "that I doubt if Bobby really needed the antivenin. He may suffer from shock, so keep him warm and quiet. He’ll probably run quite a high fever tonight, but don’t worry. He’s a husky lad and he couldn’t have been bitten in a safer place, if it had to happen." He laid his hand on Trixie’s shoulder. "You’re a very level-headed young lady," he said. "Any time you decide you want a job as a nurse just let me know."
    "Thank you, Trixie," Mrs. Belden said, her face buried in Bobby’s neck. "Your father is going to be very proud of you."
    Trixie felt sickeningly weak, then, and her whole body began to shake. If her mother had scolded her for not taking better care of Bobby, she would have felt better. Choking sobs welled up in her throat, and she turned and ran blindly out of the room and into the hall.
    Downstairs, she flung herself on the sofa and let the tears come. From somewhere far off, she heard Honey say, "I guess I’ll be going home now, Trixie. That is, unless I can help you in some way."
    Trixie got out