She wore her hair cropped close. "Could she
have been in prison?" thought Eloquent, remembering how light she was
when he carried her in.

With hands that trembled somewhat he pushed the wet curly hair back
from the forehead so like Mary's. There were the same wide brow, the
same white eyelids with the sweeping arch and thick dark lashes, the
delicate high-bridged nose and well-cut, kindly mouth; the same pure
oval in the line of cheek and chin.

Certainly an extraordinary resemblance. She must at least be a cousin;
and, in spite of his sincere commiseration of the young lady's
suffering, he felt a jubilant thrill in the reflection that this
accident must bring him into further contact with the Ffolliots.

There was no brandy in the house, for both he and his aunt were total
abstainers, so he fetched a glass of water and held it to the young
lady's lips as she opened her eyes. She drank eagerly, looked
searchingly at him, then she glanced down at her bare arm and the cut
sleeve. The colour flooded her face, and with real horror in her voice
she exclaimed, "You've never gone and _cut_ that jacket!"

"I had to. Your arm ought to be set at once, and goodness knows where
the doctor may be to-day. You'd best be taken to Marlehouse Infirmary,
I think; it's a bad break."

"But it's her best coat, quite new," Miss Buttermish persisted
fretfully, "quite new; you'd no business to go and cut it. I promised
to take such care of it."

"I'm very sorry," Eloquent replied meekly; "but it really was necessary
that your arm should be seen to at once, and I dared not jerk it about."

"Can it be mended, do you think, so that it won't show?" There was
real concern in her voice.

"I'm sure of it," he answered, much astonished at this fuss about a
coat at such a moment; "I cut it carefully along the seam."

"I say," exclaimed Miss Buttermish, "I must get out of this"--and she
prepared to swing her feet off the sofa--rather big feet, he noted, in
stout golfing shoes. Forcibly he held her legs down.

"Please don't," he implored. "You must not jar that arm any more than
can be helped. Shall I go up to the Manor House and get them to send a
conveyance for you?--you really mustn't think of walking, and I don't
know where else we could get one to-day."

Miss Buttermish closed her eyes and frowned heavily. Then in a faint
voice--

"How do you know I'm from the Manor House?"

"Well, for one thing, you're very like . . . t