n a motherly tone, "I should like you to go to bed.
I really should. You ought to, I'm sure."

"Well, I shan't," he replied.

"But please! To please me! You can get up again."

"Oh, go to blazes!" he cried resentfully. "What in thunder should I go
to bed for, I should like to know? Have a little sense, do!" He shut
his eyes.

He had never till then spoken to her so roughly.

"Very well," she agreed, with soothing acquiescence. His outburst had
not irritated her in the slightest degree.

In the kitchen, as she bent over the kettle and the fire, each object
was surrounded by a sort of halo, like the moon in damp weather. She
brushed her hand across her eyes, contemptuous of herself. Then she
ran lightly upstairs and searched out an old linen garment and tore
the seams of it apart. She crept back to the parlour and peeped in.
Louis had not moved on the sofa. His eyes were still closed. After a
few seconds, he said, without stirring--

"I've not yet passed away. I can see you."

She responded with a little laugh, somewhat forced.

After an insupportable delay Mrs. Tams reappeared, out of breath.
Dr. Yardley had just gone out, but he was expected back very soon and
would then be sent down instantly.

Mrs. Tams, quite forgetful of etiquette, followed Rachel, unasked,
into the parlour.

"What?" said Louis loudly. "Two of you! Isn't one enough?"

Mrs. Tams vanished.

"Heath took charge of the bikes," Louis murmured, as if to the
ceiling.

Over half an hour elapsed before the gate creaked.

"There he is!" Rachel exclaimed happily. After having conceived a
hundred different tragic sequels to the accident, she was lifted by
the mere creak of the gate into a condition of pure optimism, and
she realized what a capacity she had for secretly being a ninny in an
unexpected crisis. But she thought with satisfaction: "Anyhow, I don't
show it. That's one good thing!" She was now prepared to take oath
that she had not for one moment been _really_ anxious about
Louis. Her demeanour, as she stated the case to the doctor, was a
masterpiece of tranquil unconcern.

III

Dr. Yardley said that he was in a hurry--that, in fact, he ought to
have been quite elsewhere at the time. He was preoccupied, and showed
no sympathy with the innocent cyclist who had escaped the fatal
menace of hoofs. When Rachel offered him the torn linen, he silently
disdained it, and, opening a small bag which he had brought with
him, produced the