half risen, yet hesitating for fear, "do help
that poor fellow!"

Whereupon Miss Craik leaped up, caught the water-jug from the table with
a rather withering look at Carshaw, and hurried toward the boy. Winifred
went after her and Carshaw went after Winifred.

The older woman turned the boy over, bent down, dipped her fingers in
the water, and sprinkled his forehead. Winifred stood a little behind
her, bending also. Near her, too, Carshaw bent over the now quiet form
of the boy.

A piece of paper touched Winifred's palm--the note again. This time her
fingers closed on it and quickly stole into her pocket.

CHAPTER XI

THE TWO CARS

"It is highly improper on my part to come here and meet you," said
Winifred. "What can it be that you have to say to me of such 'high
importance'?"

The two were in the lane behind the church, at seven that same evening.
Winifred, on some pretext, had escaped the watchful eyes of Rachel
Craik, or fancied that she had, and came hurriedly to the waiting
Carshaw. She was all aflutter with expectancy not untinged by fear, she
knew not of what. The nights were beginning to darken early, and it was
gloomy that evening, for the sky was covered with clouds and a little
drizzle was falling.

"You are not to think that there is the least hint of impropriety about
the matter," Carshaw assured her. "Understand, please, Winifred, that
this is no lovers' meeting, but a business one, on which your whole
future life depends. You cannot suppose that I have followed you to
Fairfield for nothing."

"How could you possibly know that I was here?"

"From the police."

"The police _again_? What a strange thing!"

"Yes, a strange thing, and yet not so strange. They are keenly
interested in you and your movements, for your good. And I, of course,
still more so."

"You are wonderfully good to care. But, tell me quickly, I cannot stay
ten minutes. I think my aunt suspects something. She already knows about
the note dropped to-day into my lap."

"And about the boy in the fit. Does she suspect that, too?"

"What, was that a ruse? Good gracious, how artful you must be! I'm
afraid of you--"

"Endlessly artful for your sake, Winifred."

"You are kind. But tell me quickly."

"Winifred, you are in danger, from which there is only one way of escape
for you--namely, absolute trust in me. Pray understand that the dream in
which you heard some one say, 'She must be taken away from New York' was
n