"No, it isn't," said the dismayed Bess. "There isn't no upstairs room used. Miss Daisy, she sleeps in here." Daisy was carried in and laid upon her narrow bed. As they placed her, so she remained, one little hand dropping weakly over one side, and not a tinge of colour in the still face. The half-closed lids had a stiffened look, and only a faint twitching now and then round the parted lips showed her to be alive. Daisy had lain thus, ever since she and John Davis were struck down together. The cruel flash which had torn and shattered John's right arm, burning the hair from his head and the very eyebrows from his face, and melting the metal buttons of his shirt, yet strange to say not killing him, had not even scorched Daisy. Only, from the moment that she had dropped to the ground, she had not stirred, or spoken, or looked at anybody. The two men, Jem Humphrey and Will Saunders, who had carried Daisy, stood waiting for further directions, and old Isaac gazed at Daisy with a fixed stare, which might have meant grief, or bewilderment, or both. Mrs. Roper, a slight and active little lady, with kind eyes, and a quick manner which could become very cordial at times, went close to Isaac and laid her hand on his arm, to draw his attention. He had only stared vacantly when she spoke, seeming not to understand. "Listen to me," she said; "Daisy is very ill, Mr. Meads, and she may be ill many days. I had her carried into my house, and sent for Mr. Bennet at once. He cannot tell at present how long this state will last—it is impossible to know—but he will look in and see her again in an hour or two." Isaac's dull eyes travelled slowly from Daisy's senseless form to Mrs. Roper's kind sad face,—she always looked sad when others were in trouble. "Been—a' struck—with lightning," he muttered, as if the idea had just managed to find its way into his poor old mind, through a doorway which had long been well-nigh clogged up with gold-dust. "Been a' struck with lightning! And whose fault's that, I'd like to know?" Isaac glared round quite fiercely, as if he wanted very much to punish somebody for what had happened. "It is nobody's fault," said Mrs. Roper. "It is nobody's fault, Mr. Meads. Daisy saw a man holding up a pitchfork, and, knowing the danger to him, she bravely rushed to stop him, and he and she were struck together. We hope she is not so much hurt as he is, but we cannot tell yet. It is a great trouble for you, Mr. Meads, but it comes from God's Hand, and you have to be thankful that it is not worse. Daisy might have been killed on the spot. Now you must all three go out of the room, and leave me with Daisy. Bess and I have to put her to bed. Then I will come and speak to Mr. Meads about a nurse, and I shall want one of you men to go on an errand—so please do not both leave yet."