“Auntie!” she called. “Aunt India! Come quickly! He’s fainted!” “Fainted? Who has fainted?” asked Miss India, from her doorway. “What are you saying, child?” “Mr. Winthrop! He’s on the porch!” cried Holly, her own face almost as white as Winthrop’s. “Mr. Winthrop! Here? Fainted? On the porch?” ejaculated Miss India, dismayedly. “Call Uncle Ran at once. I’ll get the ammonia. Tell Phœbe to bring some feathers. And get some water yourself, Holly.” In a moment Miss India, the ammonia bottle in hand, was――I had almost said scuttling down the stairs. At least, she made the descent without wasting a moment. “The poor man,” she murmured, as she looked down at the white face and inert form of the stranger. “Holly! Phœbe! Oh, you’re here, are you? Give me the water. There! Now bathe his head, Holly. Mercy, child, how your hand shakes! Have you never seen any one faint before?” “It was so sudden,” faltered Holly. “Fainting usually is,” replied Miss India, as she dampened her tiny handkerchief with ammonia and held it under Winthrop’s nose. “Do not hold his head too high, Holly; that’s better. What do you say, Phœbe? Why, you’ll just stand there and hold them until I want them, I reckon. Dead? Of course he isn’t dead, you foolish girl. Not the least bit dead. There, his eyelids moved; didn’t you see them? He will be all right in a moment. You may take those feathers away, Phœbe, and tell Uncle Ran to come and carry Mr. Winthrop up to his room. And do you go up and start the fire and turn the bed down.” Winthrop drew a long breath and opened his eyes. “My dear lady,” he muttered, “I am so very sorry to bother you. I don’t――――” “Sit still a moment, sir,” commanded Miss India, gently. “Holly, I told you to hold his head. Don’t you see that he is weak and tired? I fear the journey was too much for you, sir.” Winthrop closed his eyes for a moment, nodding his head assentingly. Then he sat up and smiled apologetically at the ladies. “It was awfully stupid of me,” he said. “I have not been very well lately and I guess the walk from the station was longer than I thought.” “You walked from the depot!” exclaimed Miss India, in horror. “It’s no wonder then, sir. Why, it’s a mile and a quarter if it’s a step! I never heard of anything so――so――――!” Miss India broke off and turned to the elderly negro, who had arrived hurriedly on the scene. “Uncle Ran, carry Mr. Winthrop up to the West Chamber and help him to retire.” “My dear lady,” Winthrop protested. “I am quite able to walk. Besides, I have no intention of burdening you with――――” “Uncle Ran!” “Yes’m.” “You heard what I said?” “Yes’m.” Uncle Randall stooped over the chair. “Jes’ you put yo’ ahms roun’ my neck, sir, an’ I’ll tote you mighty cahful an’ comfable, sir.” “But, really, I’d rather walk,” protested Winthrop. “And with your permission, Miss――Miss Wayne, I’ll return to the village until――――” “Uncle Ran!” “Yes, Miss Indy, ma’am, I heahs you. Hol’ on tight, sir.”