her, and together they tried to lift the still, little
figure onto some rugs and pillows. Then Patsy crept closer and wound
her arms about him, chafing his cheeks and hands and watching for
some sign of returning life.

The man stood silently beside them, holding the pilgrim staff, while
his eyes wandered from Patsy to the child and back to Patsy again,
her face full of harboring tenderness and a great suffering as she
gathered the little boy into her arms and pressed her warm cheek
against the cold one.

Only once during their long wait was the silence broken. "'Tis almost
as if he'd slipped over the border," Patsy whispered. "Maybe he's
there in the gray dusk--a wee shadow soul waiting for death to loosen
its wings and send it lilting into the blue of the Far Country."

"How did you happen to know him?"

"Chance, just. I stopped to tell him a tale of a wandering hero and
he--" She broke off with a little moan. "_Ochone!_ poor wee Joseph!
did I send ye forth on a brave adventure only to bring ye to this?"
Her fingers brushed the damp curls from his forehead. "Laddy, laddy,
why didn't ye mind the promise I laid on ye?"

The doctor was kindly and efficient, but professionally
non-committal. The boy was badly injured, and he must be moved at
once to the nearest house. Somehow they lifted Joseph and held him so
as to break the jar of stone and rut as the doctor drove his car as
carefully as he could down the road leading to the nearest
farm-house.

There they were met with a generous warmth of sympathy and
hospitality; the spare chamber was opened, and the farm wife bustled
about, turning down the bed and bringing what comforts the house
possessed. The doctor stayed as long as he could; but the stork was
flying at the other end of the township, and he was forced to leave
Patsy in charge, with abundant instructions.

Soon after his leaving the Dempsy Carters returned without Joseph's
parents; they had gone to town and were not expected home until
"chore time."

"All right," Patsy sighed. "Now ye had best all go your ways and I'll
bide till morning."

"But can you?" Janet Payne asked it, wonderingly. "I thought you said
you had to be in Arden to-day?"

A smile, whimsical and baffling, crept to the corners of Patsy's
mouth. "Sure, life is crammed with things ye think have to be done
to-day till they're matched against a sudden greater need. Chance and
I started the wee lad on his journey, and 'twas meant I shou