rfectly still, with lips so hard compressed,
that he said:

"It's no good worrying, Mother."

Frances Freeland rose, pulled something hard, and a cupboard appeared.
She opened it, and took out a travelling-bag.

"I must go back with you at once," she said.

"I don't think it's in the least necessary, and you'll only knock
yourself up."

"Oh, nonsense, darling! I must."

Knowing that further dissuasion would harden her determination, Felix
said: "I'm going in the car."

"That doesn't matter. I shall be ready in ten minutes. Oh! and do you
know this? It's splendid for taking lines out under the eyes!" She was
holding out a little round box with the lid off. "Just wet your finger
with it, and dab it gently on."

Touched by this evidence of her deep desire that he should put as good a
face on it as herself, Felix dabbed himself under the eyes.

"That's right. Now, wait for me, dear; I shan't be a minute. I've only
to get my things. They'll all go splendidly in this little bag."

In a quarter of an hour they had started. During that journey Frances
Freeland betrayed no sign of tremor. She was going into action, and,
therefore, had no patience with her nerves.

"Are you proposing to stay, Mother?" Felix hazarded; "because I don't
think there's a room for you."

"Oh! that's nothing, darling. I sleep beautifully in a chair. It suits
me better than lying down." Felix cast up his eyes, and made no answer.

On arriving, they found that the doctor had been there, expressed his
satisfaction, and enjoined perfect quiet. Tod was on the point of
starting back to Transham, where Sheila and the two laborers would be
brought up before the magistrates. Felix and Kirsteen took hurried
counsel. Now that Mother, whose nursing was beyond reproach, had come,
it would be better if they went with Tod. All three started forthwith in
the car.

Left alone, Frances Freeland took her bag--a noticeably old one, without
any patent clasp whatever, so that she could open it--went noiselessly
upstairs, tapped on Derek's door, and went in. A faint but cheerful
voice remarked: "Halloo, Granny!"

Frances Freeland went up to the bed, smiled down on him ineffably, laid a
finger on his lips, and said, in the stillest voice: "You mustn't talk,
darling!" Then she sat down in the window with her bag beside her. Half
a tear had run down her nose, and she had no intention that it should be
seen. She therefore opened her bag, an