Blair stared almost as much as the cook had done. The face was so pleasant, the voice so refined, that he inwardly called himself a fool for showing himself to her in that trim. For once, speech failed him; a thing Blair had never done at mathematics, I can tell you; he had not the smallest notion who she was or what she wanted. And the silence seemed to frighten her. "Am I too late?" she asked, her face growing white. "Has the--the worse happened?" "Happened to what?" questioned Blair, for he never once thought of the sick fellow above, and was all at sea. "Pardon me, young lady, but I do not know what you are speaking of." "Of my brother, Edward Sanker. Oh, sir! is he dead?" "Miss Sanker! Truly I beg your pardon for my stupidity. He is out of danger; is getting well." She sat down for a minute on the old stone bench beyond the door, roughed with the crowd of boys' names cut in it. Her lips were trembling just a little, and the soft brown eyes had tears in them; but the face was breaking into a happy smile. "Oh, Dr. Frost, thank you, thank you! Somehow I never thought of him as dead until this moment, and it startled me." Fancy her taking him for Frost! Blair was a good-looking fellow under thirty, slender and well made. The Doctor stood out an old guy of fifty, with a stern face and black knee-breeches. "My mother had your letter, sir, but she was not able to come. My father is very ill, needing her attention every moment; she strove to see on which side her duty lay--to stay with him, or to come to Edward; and she thought it must lie in remaining with papa. So she sent me. I left Wales last night." "Is Mr. Sanker's a fever, too?" asked Blair, in wonder. "No, an accident. He was hurt in the mine." It was odd that it should be so; the two illnesses occurring at the same time! Mr. Sanker, it appeared, fell from the shaft; his leg was broken, and there were other injuries. At first they were afraid for him. Blair fell into a dilemma. He wouldn't have minded Mrs. Sanker; but he did not know much about young ladies, not being accustomed to them. She got up from the bench. "Mamma bade me say to you, Dr. Frost----" "I beg your pardon," interrupted Blair again. "I am not Dr. Frost; the Doctor went to London this morning. My name is Blair--one of the masters. Will you walk in?" He shut her into the parlour on his way to call Hall, and to put on his boots and coat. Seeing me, he turned into the schoolroom. "Ludlow, are not the Sankers connections of yours?" "Not of mine. Of Mrs. Todhetley's." "It's all the same. You go in and talk to her. I don't know what on earth to do. She has come to be with Sanker, but she won't like to stay here with only you and me. If the Doctor were at home it would be different." "She seems an uncommon nice girl, Mr. Blair."