Jacqueline chuckled and shivered. "The Apple Blossom"--she referred to her elder sister, Jemima--"was turning your room into a hospital-ward when I left, against the arrival of your mangled corpse. She had also ordered the wagon prepared like an ambulance, mattresses, chloroform, bandages--every gruesome detail complete. Our Jemima," she said, "is having the time of her life--isn't she, Reverend Flip?" Mrs. Kildare smiled in spite of herself. The description of her eldest daughter was apt. But she said reprovingly, "Yon sound as if you were making fun of your sister, dear. And don't call Philip 'the Reverend Flip.' It is rude." "Pooh! Rudeness is good for that elderly young man," murmured Jacqueline, with an engaging smile in his direction. But the elderly young man, standing at the door, did not notice. He was gazing at Mrs. Kildare questioningly. There had come a groan from the inner room. "What's that?" cried Jacqueline. She ran to investigate. "Oh! The _poor_ thing! What's the matter with her?" Benoix would have stopped her, but Kate said shortly, "Nonsense, Phil. My girls were born women. You ride for the doctor." At dawn a faint, fierce whisper came from the inner room. "Whar's my babby? What you-all doin' with my babby? You ain't goin' to take her away from me? No, _no_! She's mine, I tell you!" Jacqueline hurried in to her with the tiny, whimpering bundle. "Of course she's yours, and the sweetest, fattest darling. Oh, Mag, how I envy you!" She kissed the other's cheek. There was a third girl in the room, a dainty, pink and white little person who well deserved her pet-name of the "Apple Blossom." She looked up in quick distaste from the bandages her capable hands were preparing, and went out to her mother. "Isn't it like Jacqueline? To sit outside all night with her fingers stuffed in her ears, because she couldn't stand the groaning, and then to--kiss the creature!" Jemima was nineteen, a most sophisticated young woman. Her mother smiled a little. "Yes," she admitted, "it is like Jacqueline, and that's why she's going to do poor Mag more good than either of us. The doctor says we shall be able to take Mag and the baby home presently." "Home!" Philip Benoix looked at her in amaze. Like the others, his face was drawn and pale with that strange vigil. Death does not come so close without leaving its mark on the watchers. "Miss Kate, surely you're not going to take Mag Henderson into your own home?" "Where else? You wanted me to evict her. I can't evict her into space." "But, the responsibility!" "Yes, there is a responsibility," said Kate Kildare, musing. "I don't know whether it's mine or God's, or whose--and I can't afford to take any chances." "It will be easier to look after them at home," commented the practical Jemima. CHAPTER III