I went over to her, whispering, "How
did you get here?" She explained that, when we did not arrive at the
studios, she had called up the Stebbins home and learned about the
accident. "They warned me not to come here, because this man was a
terrible Bolshevik; he made a blood-thirsty speech to the mob. What
did he say?"
I started to tell; but I was interrupted by a piercing shriek. A
sick and emaciated young girl with paralyzed limbs had been carried
into the room. They had laid her on the couch, from which the child
had been taken away, and Carpenter had put his hands upon her. At
once the girl had risen up--and here she stood, her hands flung into
the air, literally screaming her triumphant joy. Of course the crowd
took it up--these primitive people are always glad of a chance to
make a big noise, so the whole room was in a clamor, and Carpenter
had hard work to extract himself from the throng which wished to
touch his hands and his clothing, and to worship him on their knees.
He came over to us, and smiled.
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