was leaning heavily on his sister's strong
young shoulder as they crossed the threshold of Doctor Churchill's
little office, Charlotte having flung open the door without waiting to
ring. Nobody was there.

"No, don't try to sit up in a chair. Here, lie down on the couch," she
insisted, and Lanse yielded, none too soon. His face had lost all colour
by the time he had stretched his tall form on the wide leather couch
which stood ready for just such occupants.

Charlotte went back to the door and rang the bell; then, as nobody
appeared, she explored the lower part of the house for Mrs. Fields in
vain.

Returning, she caught sight for the first time of a little memorandum on
the doctor's desk: "_Out. Return 10:30 A.M._" She glanced at the clock.
It was exactly quarter past ten.

She studied her brother's face anxiously. The stain upon the cloth was
rapidly growing larger. She was sure he ought not to lie there with the
bleeding unchecked. She went to the door of the small private office;
her eyes fell upon a package labeled "Absorbent Cotton." She opened it,
pulled out a handful, and went back to her brother.

She lifted the cloth from his head, and saw a long, uneven gash, from
which the blood was freely oozing. Taking two rolls of cotton, she laid
one on each side of the wound, forcing the edges together. After a
little experimenting she found that by holding her cotton very firmly
and pressing in a certain way, the flow of the blood was almost
completely checked.

"Does that hurt?" she asked Lanse. He nodded without speaking, but she
did not lighten her pressure. She saw that he was very faint.

"I'm sorry it hurts you, dear," she said, "but it stops the blood when I
press this way, and I'm sure that's better for you. The doctor will be
here soon, and I think I'd better hold it till he comes."

Lanse nodded again, his brows contracting with pain, not only from the
pressure upon the wound, but from the reaction from the blow which had
caused it.

Charlotte's eyes watched the clock, her hands never relinquishing their
task.

"What next?" she was thinking. "Will the time ever be up and father and
mother come back to find us all safe? Three more months--three more
months----"

Dr. Andrew Churchill came whistling softly across the lawn, glancing at
his watch, and noting that he was fifteen minutes later than he had
expected to be. In the doorway of his office he came to a surprised
halt.

"Miss Charlotte! Wh