them they could see both husband and wife lying motionless in the
road.

[Illustration: "LOOKING BEFORE THEM THEY COULD SEE BOTH HUSBAND AND
WIFE LYING MOTIONLESS IN THE ROAD."]

Between them they soon lifted poor Armida into the wagon, and laid
her on the bed as tenderly as might be, eliciting a groan by the
operation.

"Best give her some?" said Lucas, bringing a bottle of brandy from out
his pocket. "Come to think of it, best not. She won't sense it so much
if she don't realize."

A brief examination of Jerry was sufficient. The brothers exchanged
glances and shakes of the head. "And to think," said Theodore, as they
regarded the body, "that it was only this morning I said to Armidy
there was one tramp too many in the house, meaning me, and now to have
my words brought before me like this! 'Twasn't anything but a joke,
but I hope she won't remember it against me."

"Well, first thing we've got to do is to get her to the house," said
Lucas.

Armida having been made as comfortable as the present would allow,
and Jerry having been brought up and consigned to the best chamber,
as befitted his state, Lucas hastened after the doctor and Aunt Polly
Slater. The doctor found Armida in a sad case. "Though I don't think,"
he assured the brothers, "if she isn't worried she will be hard sick.
She's naturally rugged, and it's merely a simple fracture of the
forearm. The sprained ankle will be the most tedious thing, but I must
charge you to keep her in ignorance of her husband's death."

Theodore helped Aunt Polly in caring for Armida, and never was woman
more tenderly cared for. Many were the lies he was forced to tell,
as Armida was first surprised, then indignant, at Jerry's apparent
neglect.

"Even Lucas has come to the door and looked at me," she complained,
"and Jerry ain't so much as been near me."

Theodore was fain to concoct a story about a strained back that would
not allow Jerry to rise from the bed. When it was deemed prudent
to tell her, the task fell to Theodore, who was very tender of his
sister, remembering that though he considered Jerry a shiftless, poor
shack of a creature, Armida probably had affection for him. She took
her loss very quietly.

"He was always good to me," she said, "and he cared for me when no one
else did."

"You're wrong there," Theodore remonstrated.

"I used to tell myself I was," she replied sadly. "I knew I give the
first offence, but Lucas never would 'a' done as he di