She continued to groan and scream for help.

Her lungs were not injured, at all events.

The schoolmistress, dropping on her knees, reached into the sulky top and tugged at the seat.

It was rather tightly wedged, but she managed to loosen it and pull it toward her.
The widow raised herself on an elbow and looked out between the flowers of her smashed bonnet.
"Who is it ?" she demanded.

"Oh, is that you, Miss Dorcas?
Oh, my soul and body! Oh, my stars! Oh, my goodness me!" "Are you hurt ?" shrieked Phoebe.
"Hey?
I don't know! I don't know WHAT I be! I don't know nothin'!" "Can you help yourself?
Can you get up ?" "Hey?
I don't know.