"Lift her up, mum," suggested Biddy, "perhaps she'll be more easy-like." But Dulcie was not easy-like. On the contrary, her tiny face grew almost purple, she gasped, clenched her fists, and seemed on the point of choking. "Biddy," said Mrs Roy calmly, but with despair written on every feature, "I believe it's croup!" Biddy stood speechless. Here was a case outside her experience; she could offer no suggestion--not one of the Lane babies had ever had croup. "Get hot water," said Mrs Roy, "and then run as fast as you can for the doctor. Take a lantern. Run, Biddy, run--" for the girl stood motionless--"every minute is of consequence." But Biddy did not stir; she only gave one miserable despairing glance at the clock. Three minutes to ten! _It_ would be crossing the Kennet just as she got there. "Biddy, Biddy," cried her mistress, "why don't you go?" Poor Biddy! She looked at Dulcie struggling for breath in her mother's arms, and fighting the air with her helpless little hands. It was pitiful, but she could not move; she only gazed horror-stricken, and as if turned into stone. "Oh!" exclaimed Mrs Roy in tones of anguish, "why doesn't Richard come home? What _shall_ I do?" Biddy's heart was touched; she clasped her hands and exclaimed, almost unconsciously: "Oh, mum, it's the ghost! I'm dreadful feared of meeting it!" The secret was out now, but Mrs Roy scarcely noticed it at all. If the room had been thronged with ghosts she would not have minded them just then--her whole heart was full of Dulcie. "Send Mrs Shivers then," she said, "and bring the hot water at once." Recovering the use of her limbs Biddy quickly had a hot bath ready; but, alas! She came back from the kitchen with the news that Mr and Mrs Shivers were both out, and had taken the lantern. "Then, Biddy," said her mistress looking up as she knelt by the bath, where the baby was now breathing more quietly, "there is only you. I can't leave her, and if this attack comes on again I don't know what to do. Most likely you'll meet Mr Roy long before you get to the village. Send him on if you do, and come back yourself. Only go, for my sake!" Her beseeching eyes were full of eloquence, but still Biddy hesitated. "Nothing can hurt you," continued Mrs Roy in a pleading voice; "and I shall bless you all my life long. Oh, Biddy, you wouldn't let Dulcie die!" To go and meet the ghost, or to let Dulcie die--they were equally dreadful to Biddy. As she thought of the first, icy-cold water seemed to be trickling slowly down her back; and as she thought of the second, a great aching ball came into her throat and her eyes filled with tears. "I'll go, mum," she gasped out. "Don't you lose heart." Mrs Roy gave a trembling sigh of relief as Biddy's sturdy form moved towards the door. "Put on my thick grey shawl hanging in the passage," she said; "and oh, Biddy, make him understand that he must come as quickly as ever he can."