It was not possible, because she would die
too! She saw her aunt turn her head like a startled animal; some one was
coming up the stairs! It was the doctor, wiping his wet face--a young
man in gaiters. How young--dreadfully young! No; there was a little
gray at the sides of his hair! What would he say? And Nedda sat with
hands tight clenched in her lap, motionless as a young crouching sphinx.
An interminable testing, and questioning, and answer! Never smoked
--never drank--never been ill! The blow--ah, here! Just here!
Concussion--yes! Then long staring into the eyes, the eyelids lifted
between thumb and finger. And at last (how could he talk so loud! Yet
it was a comfort too--he would not talk like that if Derek were going to
die!)--Hair cut shorter--ice--watch him like a lynx! This and that, if
he came to. Nothing else to be done. And then those blessed words:

"But don't worry too much. I think it'll be all right." She could not
help a little sigh escaping her clenched teeth.

The doctor was looking at her. His eyes were nice.

"Sister?"

"Cousin."

"Ah! Well, I'll get back now, and send you out some ice, at once."

More talk outside the door. Nedda, alone with her lover, crouched
forward on her knees, and put her lips to his. They were not so cold as
his foot, and the first real hope and comfort came to her. Watch him like
a lynx--wouldn't she? But how had it all happened? And where was Sheila?
and Uncle Tod?

Her aunt had come back and was stroking her shoulder. There had been
fighting in the barn at Marrow Farm. They had arrested Sheila. Derek
had jumped down to rescue her and struck his head against a grindstone.
Her uncle had gone with Sheila. They would watch, turn and turn about.
Nedda must go now and eat something, and get ready to take the watch from
eight to midnight.

Following her resolve to make no fuss, the girl went out. The police had
gone. The mother-child was putting her little folk to bed; and in the
kitchen Felix was arranging the wherewithal to eat. He made her sit down
and kept handing things; watching like a cat to see that she put them in
her mouth, in the way from which only Flora had suffered hitherto; he
seemed so anxious and unhappy, and so awfully sweet, that Nedda forced
herself to swallow what she thought would never go down a dry and choky
throat. He kept coming up and touching her shoulder or forehead. Once
he said:

"It's all right, you know,