the gate. They will not let him come in. He sent
me to tell you."

Chatty rose to her feet, and the group in the end of the room scattered
and crowded to the window. Theo seized his stepson by the collar, half
choking the boy. "You confounded imp!" he cried, "what business is that
of yours?"

"Geoff, where, where?" Chatty rushed to the child and caught his hand.
He struggled in Theo's grasp, in a desperate, nervous anguish, fearing
he could not tell what,--that he would be strangled, that Chatty would
be put in some sort of prison. The strangling was in progress now; he
called out in haste, that he might get it out before his breath was
gone--

"Oh, run, Chatty! The little gate in the road--the wooden gate." She
seemed to flash past his eyes,--his eyes which were turning in his head,
with the pressure and the shaking of Warrender's arm. Then the child
felt himself suddenly pitched forward and fell, stunned for the moment,
and thinking, before consciousness failed him, that all was over, and
that he was killed indeed--yet scarcely sorry, for Chatty had his
message and he had fulfilled his commission before he died.

Chatty flew along the shady paths, a line of whiteness fluttering
through sunshine and shadow. She called out her lover's name as she
approached the gate. She had neither fear nor doubt in her mind. She did
not know what news he was going to bring her, what conclusion was to be
put to the story. She called to him as soon as he was within hearing,
asking no questions, taking no precautions. "Dick, Dick!" Behind her,
but at some distance, Minnie too fluttered along, inspired by virtuous
indignation, which is only less swift than love and happiness. The
gentlemen remained behind, even Eustace perceiving that the matter had
now passed beyond their hands. This is one of the points in which men
have the advantage over women. They have a practical sense of the point
at which opposition becomes impossible. And Warrender had the additional
knowledge that he had done that in his fury which at his leisure it
would be difficult to account for. Mrs. Warrender, who had not been
informed of the crisis, nor known upon what matter her children were
consulting, was too much horrified by what had happened to Geoff to
think even of Chatty. She raised the boy up and put him on a sofa, and
bathed his forehead, her own heart aching and bleeding, while Warrender
stood dumbly by, looking at his handiwork, his passion still hot in