drawing one hand
over the other in a persistent, maniacal gesture. From time to time she
would start suddenly from her chair, her eyes wide, and as if all at
once realising Annixter's presence, would cry out:

"Is there any news?"

"Where is Sidney, Mrs. Dyke?" asked Hilma for the fourth time. "Is she
well? Is she taken care of?"

"Here's the last telegram," said Mrs. Dyke, in a loud, monotonous voice.
"See, it says there is no news. He didn't do it," she moaned, rocking
herself back and forth, drawing one hand over the other, "he didn't do
it, he didn't do it, he didn't do it. I don't know where he is."

When at last she came to herself, it was with a flood of tears. Hilma
put her arms around the poor, old woman, as she bowed herself again upon
the table, sobbing and weeping.

"Oh, my son, my son," she cried, "my own boy, my only son! If I could
have died for you to have prevented this. I remember him when he was
little. Such a splendid little fellow, so brave, so loving, with never
an unkind thought, never a mean action. So it was all his life. We were
never apart. It was always 'dear little son,' and 'dear mammy' between
us--never once was he unkind, and he loved me and was the gentlest
son to me. And he was a GOOD man. He is now, he is now. They don't
understand him. They are not even sure that he did this. He never
meant it. They don't know my son. Why, he wouldn't have hurt a kitten.
Everybody loved him. He was driven to it. They hounded him down, they
wouldn't let him alone. He was not right in his mind. They hounded him
to it," she cried fiercely, "they hounded him to it. They drove him and
goaded him till he couldn't stand it any longer, and now they mean to
kill him for turning on them. They are hunting him with dogs; night
after night I have stood on the porch and heard the dogs baying far off.
They are tracking my boy with dogs like a wild animal. May God never
forgive them." She rose to her feet, terrible, her white hair unbound.
"May God punish them as they deserve, may they never prosper--on my
knees I shall pray for it every night--may their money be a curse to
them, may their sons, their first-born, only sons, be taken from them in
their youth."

But Hilma interrupted, begging her to be silent, to be quiet. The tears
came again then and the choking sobs. Hilma took her in her arms.

"Oh, my little boy, my little boy," she cried. "My only son, all that I
had, to have come to this! He was not rig