"It's Massa Tom!" cried Eradicate, as he saw Tom alight.
The young inventor hurried into the house. He was met by the nurse, who held up a warning finger. Tom's heart almost stopped beating. He was aware that Dr. Gladby came from the room where Mr. Swift lay.
"Is he—is he—am I too late?" gulped Tom.
"Hush!" cautioned the nurse.
Torn reeled, and would have fallen had not the doctor caught him, for the lad was weak and wornout.
"He is going to get well!" were the joyful words he heard, as if in a dream, and then his strength suddenly came back to him. "The crisis is just passed, Tom," went on Dr. Gladby, "and your father will recover, and be stronger than ever. Your good news of winning was like a tonic to him. Now let me congratulate you on the race." Tom had flashed by wireless a brief message of his success.
"Dad's news is better than all the congratulations in the world," he said softly, as he grasped the doctor's hand.
******
It was a week later. Mr. Swift improved rapidly once the course of the disease was permanently checked, and he was soon able to sit up.
