le the benumbed mind.

"Were you hurt, dear? Was any one hurt? When did it happen? How did
you hear?"

After each question Marcia waited, and then put another. Still that
fixed, steady gaze.

"I--I was there. It was night. He--he kissed me--don't look like
that! look away! your eyes hurt me!"

Marcia came closer and took the girl in her arms.

"Now, darling," she whispered, "close your eyes and I'll close
mine--there are only you and I and--God here."

"He--he kissed me, Crothers did! Then he wanted me to do
something--oh! I do not know what, but something he thought I could
do--I felt it, and--and I threw the lamp at him. It was lighted and he
went down in a heap and I--I ran right hard, but I went back and pulled
him out when the fire started. I do not know why--for I want him out
of the world. I shall be afraid always while he is in the world!"

"It's all right now, little Cyn, all, all right."

This only could the horrified woman repeat over and over, as she swayed
to and fro with closed eyes and Cynthia on her breast.

Vividly she seemed to see the late scene. The helpless girl; the
brutish man; the lonely night shutting them in and only a miracle to
save. Details did not matter, and the miracle had come, but the after
effects were here and now.

It was near noon before Marcia Lowe dared take Cynthia away from the
shelter of the church, and when she did so she chose an hour when all
but Greeley were absent from the store, and he was in the rear, eating
his dinner.

"You must come to Trouble Neck, little Cyn," she said firmly; "you'll
be safe there, and we must think this out."

Cynthia made no demur, and wrapped in Marcia Lowe's coat--Marcia had a
lighter one beside--she clung close to the little doctor and walked the
three miles to Trouble Neck without a word of complaint.

"It's plain good luck," Marcia Lowe thought, "that Martin Morley is out
of hospital." And then she smiled grimly up into the girl-face beside
her, for Cynthia was fully as tall as she.

It was late afternoon when Tod Greeley strode over to Trouble Neck for
no particular reason. Outside the door he stood and listened to
low-spoken words and snatches of song.

"'Taint nowise normal, I reckon," mused he; "a woman's tongue and mind
has got to have some one to hit up against, or the recoil is going to
do some right smart damage to the woman herself." Then he knocked, and
went in at the word of command to enter.