n were heard in the rear, and the doctor impatiently
strode to the door and shouted for his domestics. Robert responded, his
kinky wool bristling as though electrified and his eyes fairly starting
from their sockets; he was trembling from head to foot.

"What's the matter, you rascal, and why do you not answer the bell?"
angrily demanded his master.

But it was "the Johnsons' Winnie" who responded. She had doubtless
been going the rounds, and was only waiting for another chance to make
a dramatic _coup_. Rushing through the kitchen, she precipitated
herself into the breakfast-room. "Oh, Miss Nellie," she sobbed,
"there's drefful news. The Indians burned the stage with everybody in
it, and they've shot Captain Terry and Mr. McLean an' all the soldiers
with 'em, an'----"

"Silence, you babbling idiot!" shouted Dr. Bayard. "Stop your fool
stories, or I'll----"

"But it's God's truth, doctor. It's God's truth," protested Winnie,
desperately determined to be defrauded of no part of her morning's
sensation. "Ask anybody. Ask the sergeant of the guard. Yo' can see the
men what brought the news yo'self."

"Pardon me, doctor," interrupted Mr. Holmes, in calm, quiet tones.
"This has been too much of a shock for Miss Bayard, I fear." And
already he was by her side, holding a glass of water to her pallid
lips. The doctor pointed to the door.

"Leave the room, you pestilence in petticoats!" he ordered. "Go!" And,
having accomplished her desire to create a sensation, though balked of
the full fruition of the promised enjoyment, Winnie flew to "Bedlam,"
where she only prayed that Celestine might not be before her with the
news. Meantime, Dr. Bayard had turned to his daughter. His first
impulse was to reprove her for her ready credence of the story set
afloat by so notorious a gabbler as the Johnsons' "second girl." One
glance at Elinor's pale features and drooping mien changed his
disposition in a trice. Anxiously he stepped to her side, and his
practised hand was at her pulse before a word of question was uttered.
Then he gently raised her head.

"Look up, daughter! Why, my little girl, this will never do! I don't
believe a word of this absurd story, and you must not let yourself be
alarmed by such fanciful pictures. Come, dear! Mr. Holmes will excuse
you this morning. Let me get you to your room. Will you kindly touch
that bell, Holmes, and send Chloe to me? I'll rejoin you in a moment.
Come, Nell?"

And half leading, hal