njured
boy should not get wet and she was glad that her rug was so thick and
warm. It had been a parting gift from her "House-Boat" guests and held
almost sacred as a memento of their happy trip together.

But now the oxen were turning into a lane. She could dimly see the
hedgerows on either side, that now and then the lightning flashes
showed more plainly; and, after a time, something big and white
seemed to block their way. A moment more and the white obstruction
proved to be a cottage with a lamp shining through its window. Then
a door opened and a woman's voice called cheerily:

"Welcome home, my man! You're late the night. Met you up with any
trouble? Didn't the apples sell well?"

"More trouble than you dream, Dame, and I've fetched it for you to
share. Light the bedroom to once. 'Tis the dead--or dyin'--is here."

Without a word the woman turned away, moving heavily because of her
great size, and an inner door opened, showing a comfortable bed, its
covers already invitingly spread back. Lighting more candles the dame
stood quietly aside, waiting her unexpected guest.

The doctor brought the boy in, still wrapped in the rug and, tossing
that to the floor, gently laid him down. John followed close behind,
announcing:

"'Tis Robin, Dame, our bonny Robin of the Glen. The heart of the
mother will break. He--"

"Help here. Hot water, please. More light. An old sheet for bandages.
Don't dally. Undress him, Lady Jane."

"But, doctor, I'm afraid!" objected that lady who, partly from
curiosity, partly to avoid the rain, had followed the physician into
the house.

Indeed, all the motoring party had now swarmed into the kitchen,
intending to be quiet yet really chattering noisily, and some of them
sniffing covetously the odors from a great pot of soup, steaming away
on the stove. But nobody was quite ready to respond to the doctor's
appeals for help, even Mrs. Gilpin being confused and stupid before
these strangers who had taken possession of her home.

As for old John, he could simply stand and stare at the unconscious
lad on the bed, too dazed and grieved to be of any use whatever.

Not so Dorothy, who had entered with the rest and who noticed Dr.
Winston's impatience--who knew that a hospital was where his patient
should be and not this ill-equipped cottage. Throwing off her dripping
jacket, she cried:

"I'll help."

A teakettle was singing beside the soup-pot on the stove and a dishpan
was hanging near.