noon
excursion. They walked slowly up the drive, supporting between them the
figure of a young fellow a few years older than themselves, who hopped
painfully on one foot, and was no sooner seated on the oak bench in the
hall, than he rested his head against the rails, and went off into a
dead faint. The boys shouted at the pitch of their voices, whereupon
Mr Bertrand rushed out of his sanctum, followed by every other member
of his household.

"Good gracious! Who is it? What is the matter? Where did he come
from? Has he had an accident?" cried the girls in chorus, while Miss
Briggs ran off for sal volatile and other remedies.

The stranger was a tall, lanky youth, about eighteen years of age, with
curly brown hair and well-cut features, and he made a pathetic figure
leaning back in the big oak seat.

"He's the son of old Freer, the Squire of Brantmere," explained Raymond,
as he busied himself unloosing the lad's collar and tie. "We have met
him several times when we have been walking. Decent fellow--Harrow--
reading at home for college, and hates it like poison. We were coming a
short cut over the mountains, when he slipped on a bit of ice, and
twisted his ankle trying to keep up. We had an awful time getting him
back. He meant to stay at the inn to-night, as his people are away, and
it was too dark to go on, but he looks precious bad. Couldn't we put
him up here?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Better carry him straight to bed and get off that
boot," said Mr Bertrand cordially. "It will be a painful job, and if
we can get it done before he comes round, so much the better. Here, you
boys, we'll carry him upstairs between us, and be careful not to trip as
you go. Someone bring up hot water, and bandages from the medicine
chest. I will doctor him myself. I have had a fair experience of
sprained ankles in my day, and don't need anyone to show me what to do."

The procession wended its way up the staircase, and for the greater part
of the evening father and brothers were alike invisible. Fomentations
and douches were carried on with gusto by Mr Bertrand, who was never
more happy than when he was playing the part of amateur surgeon; then
Miss Briggs had her innings, and carried a tray upstairs laden with all
the dainties the house could supply, after partaking of which the
invalid was so far recovered that he was glad of his friends' company,
and kept them laughing and chatting in his room until it was time to