Hester snatched up her hat and flew down stairs. In a moment she was in the wagonette, and the driver was speedily urging his horses in the direction of the small town of Sefton, two miles and a half away. Hester was terrified now--so terrified, in such an agony, that she even forgot Annie; her hatred toward Annie became of secondary importance to her. All her ideas, all her thoughts, were swallowed up in the one great hope--Should she be in time to reach Dr. Mayflower's house before he set off on his afternoon rounds? As the wagonette approached Sefton she buried her face in her hands and uttered a sharp inward cry of agony.