age, fields, and orchard,
disturbed her; and, while Felix refreshed himself, she fluttered several
times on varying pretexts to the wicket gate.

At her third visit, from the direction of the church, she saw figures
coming on the road--dark figures carrying something, followed by others
walking alongside. What sun there had been had quite given in to heavy
clouds; the light was dull, the elm-trees dark; and not till they were
within two hundred yards could Nedda make out that these were figures
of policemen. Then, alongside that which they were carrying, she saw her
aunt's blue dress. WHAT were they carrying like that? She dashed down
the steps, and stopped. No! If it were HE they would bring him in! She
rushed back again, distracted. She could see now a form stretched on a
hurdle. It WAS he!

"Dad! Quick!"

Felix came, startled at that cry, to find his little daughter on the
path wringing her hands and flying back to the wicket gate. They were
close now. She saw them begin to mount the steps, those behind raising
their arms so that the hurdle should be level. Derek lay on his back,
with head and forehead swathed in wet blue linen, torn from his mother's
skirt; and the rest of his face very white. He lay quite still, his
clothes covered with mud. Terrified, Nedda plucked at Kirsteen's sleeve.

"What is it?"

"Concussion!" The stillness of that blue-clothed figure, so calm beside
her, gave her strength to say quietly:

"Put him in my room, Aunt Kirsteen; there's more air there!" And she
flew up-stairs, flinging wide her door, making the bed ready, snatching
her night things from the pillow; pouring out cold water, sprinkling the
air with eau de cologne. Then she stood still. Perhaps, they would not
bring him there? Yes, they were coming up. They brought him in, and laid
him on the bed. She heard one say: "Doctor'll be here directly, ma'am.
Let him lie quiet." Then she and his mother were alone beside him.

"Undo his boots," said Kirsteen.

Nedda's fingers trembled, and she hated them for fumbling so, while she
drew off those muddy boots. Then her aunt said softly: "Hold him up,
dear, while I get his things off."

And, with a strange rapture that she was allowed to hold him thus, she
supported him against her breast till he was freed and lying back inert.
Then, and only then, she whispered:

"How long before he--?"

Kirsteen shook her head; and, slipping her arm round the girl, murmured:
"Courage, Nedda!"