this morning, and I found out what awful suffering she might
have had hours longer. You did right. I will marry you. I will never
think of it again. Please don't look so. Are you dreadfully hurt? Oh,
when they came bringing you in I thought you were killed! There is a
great bruise on your head. Does it hurt much? You do feel better, don't
you? Oh, Emma, if Uncle Tom would only come. Can't you hear me, dear? I
will marry you. I take it all back. I will marry you! I will marry you
whenever you wish. Oh, please look at me! Please speak to me! Oh, Emma,
there is Uncle Tom. I am so glad."

And then poor, little Clemency, all unstrung and frightened, sank into
an unconscious little heap on the floor as Gordon entered. "What the
devil?" he cried out. "I saw the buggy smashed on the road, and that
mare went down the Ford Hill road like a whirlwind. What, Elliot, are
you hurt, boy? Clemency, Emma, what has happened?"

All the time Gordon was talking he was examining James, who was now able
to speak feebly. "The mare was frightened and threw me," he gasped. "I
was stunned. I am all right now. See to Clemency!"

But Clemency was already staggering weakly to her feet.

"Oh, Uncle Tom, he isn't killed, is he?" she sobbed.

"Killed, no," said Gordon, "but he will be if you don't stop crying and
making a goose of yourself, Clemency."

"We put ice on his head," sobbed Clemency. "He isn't--"

"Of course he isn't. He was only stunned. That is only a flesh wound."

"I tried to git some brandy down him, but I couldn't," said Emma.

"Give it to me," said Gordon. He poured out some brandy in a spoon, and
James swallowed it. "He will be all right now," Gordon said. "You won't
be such a beauty that the women will run after you for a few days,
Elliot, but you're all right."

"I feel all right," James said.

"It is nothing more than a little boy with a bump on his forehead," said
Gordon to Clemency. "Now, child, stop crying, and go and bathe your
eyes. Emma, is luncheon ready?"

When both women had gone Gordon, who had been applying some ointment to
James's forehead, said in a low voice, broken by emotion, "You are all
right, Elliot, but--you did have a close call."

"I suppose I did," James said, laughing feebly.

He essayed to rise, but Gordon held him down. "No, keep still," he said.
"You must not stir to-day. I will have your luncheon brought in.
Clemency will be only too happy to wait on you, hand and foot."

"Poor little g