She left the room and went downstairs where she at once sought out Agnes, beckoning to her with a look of mystery. “He’s got his mind again,” she said. “Now, what’s to be done? Do you suppose he’ll be telling it around that Polly O’Neill made a target of him?” “Of course not. When we explain that he was breaking into our house, he will be glad enough to keep quiet about it; and if he does not, I think we shall have our own story to tell, and it will be believed.” Agnes gave her head a toss and Polly laughed. “Very well, then,” said the latter, “since you are so high an’ mighty about it, suppose you go up with this dish of porridge an’ see what he has to say for himself.” “Ah, but, Polly--” “No ah buts; go right along,” and Polly gave her a good-humored push toward the table where the bowl of porridge stood. “He’s a young man,” said Agnes, still hesitating. “Yes, and good looking and nice spoken. He’ll not bite you,” returned Polly, blandly. “Go along with your porridge before it gets cold; and if he wants to talk, let him.” Agnes, with bowl in hand, slowly mounted the stairs to the loft. On Polly’s best feather-bed, covered warmly with skins, lay the wounded man. His eyes were closed, but, at the sound of Agnes’s gentle voice, he opened them. “Here is some porridge for you,” the girl said. “Thank you, but I don’t care for it.” “You must take it. Polly says so. She is the best nurse in the world.” The young man smiled. “Well, if Polly says so, I suppose that settles it. Will you bring it close, and may I ask you to raise my head a little?” Agnes pushed the pillow further under his shoulders and raised his head, holding the bowl while he drank his gruel. “I’d like to sit up a little. I want to look out,” said the young man. Agnes made a roll of some skins which she brought from the next room, and by their aid he was propped up; then she drew aside the curtain from the little window and stood waiting. [Illustration: SHE DREW ASIDE THE CURTAIN FROM THE LITTLE WINDOW] “It is good to see the outside world again,” he said. “It is familiar enough. I think it is time for explanations. Will you tell me how I came to be here, and why you are here, and who you all are? I’ve had glimpses of the reality of it all, though I suppose my mind has been wandering a bit, too. How long have I been in this bed?” “Nearly three weeks.” The young man gave an exclamation of surprise, and then, with a gentle wave of his hand, he said, “Don’t stand.” Agnes drew up a low stool. She was not very used to courtly ways and they embarrassed her, so she sat looking down at her brown hands folded on her lap, and wished she could think of some excuse to take her downstairs. For some time there was silence, the girl feeling conscious that she was being steadfastly regarded by a pair of big brown eyes.