"_Hush!_" said the next sister, just a little older. Krikor, the eldest boy, came running in. "Mother! mother! let us all go to the church. The neighbours--those of them who are _here_--say it is the best thing to do. The Turks will not touch us there." One loving glance she gave to her dying husband, then she looked at Jack. "Perhaps," she said, "the kind English Effendi would take you children there. And your grandmother--Parooz, where is she?" "Not one of us will stir a step without you, mother; there is no use in asking us. We live or die all together," the boy said firmly, disregarding the looks and gestures with which his mother tried to stop him. Then a feeble voice was heard, speaking from the bed. "In God's name, let us all go. I think I could walk--with help." In John Grayson's broken heart the instinct of helpfulness survived. It was as if he were dead within, and his shell, his outer self, went on mechanically, acting out the impulses impressed, and the habits formed, during his life-time. "I will help you," he said, going over to the wounded man and preparing to raise him from the bed. Almost dying as he was, he was still able to stand, and even to walk a little. Parooz, the eldest girl, fetched the white-haired grandmother, who had gone apart to weep, and was found in an upper room sleeping for sorrow. The children gathered round them. Jack put his strong arm about the dying man, his wife supported him on the other side, and they all went out together. The state of the streets was indescribable. People were rushing through them wildly, shrieking, screaming, crying for help; and the dead and dying lay about under their very feet. Happily, the Cathedral was near at hand; but, for one of the little party, peace and safety were nearer still. As they came in sight of it, Selferian's strength failed. "Let me rest a moment," he prayed. They put down some of their upper garments, and laid him gently on them; and there he rested--from all his weariness and all his pain. There was no time to mourn the dead. The old grandmother went on first, taking with her the reluctant Krikor. Then Jack said to the new-made widow, "For your children's sake," and pointed to the Cathedral. The sights of horror they had seen, even in their short walk, quickened their footsteps. They found the churchyard and the buildings around it, the dwellings of the priests and the school-houses, already full of people. Making their way through the throng, they got at last into the Cathedral; and, after some further delay, went up into the gallery, some people the Selferians knew being there already.