as that people should always be
encouraged to believe themselves better than they were, answered. "Yes,
darling, of course; you'll be up in no time. It'll be delightful to see
you in a chair to-morrow. But you mustn't talk."

Derek sighed, closed his eyes, and went off into a faint.

It was in moments such as these that Frances Freeland was herself. Her
face flushed a little and grew terribly determined. Conscious that she
was absolutely alone in the house, she ran to her bag, took out her sal
volatile, applied it vigorously to his nose, and poured a little between
his lips. She did other things to him, and not until she had brought him
round, and the best of it was already made, did she even say to herself:
'It's no use fussing; I must make the best of it.'

Then, having discovered that he felt quite comfortable--as he said--she
sat down in a chair to fan him and tremble vigorously. She would not
have allowed that movement of her limbs if it had in any way interfered
with the fanning. But since, on the contrary, it seemed to be of
assistance, she certainly felt it a relief; for, whatever age her spirit
might be, her body was seventy-three.

And while she fanned she thought of Derek as a little, black-haired,
blazing-gray-eyed slip of a sallow boy, all little thin legs and arms
moving funnily like a foal's. He had been such a dear, gentlemanlike
little chap. It was dreadful he should be forgetting himself so, and
getting into such trouble. And her thoughts passed back beyond him to
her own four little sons, among whom she had been so careful not to have
a favorite, but to love them all equally. And she thought of how their
holland suits wore out, especially in the elastic, and got green behind,
almost before they were put on; and of how she used to cut their hairs,
spending at least three-quarters of an hour on each, because she had
never been quick at it, while they sat so good--except Stanley, and
darling Tod, who WOULD move just as she had got into the comb
particularly nice bits of his hair, always so crisp and difficult! And of
how she had cut off Felix's long golden curls when he was four, and would
have cried over it, if crying hadn't always been silly! And of how
beautifully they had all had their measles together, so that she had been
up with them day and night for about a fortnight. And of how it was a
terrible risk with Derek and darling Nedda, not at all a wise match, she
was afraid. And yet,