She did not forget to bid Jane good-night; she undressed and laid her clothes neatly in their place, and without difficulty she dropped into a sleep as deep as her own trouble. She had the virtues of her defects, a stoicism to match her resolutions, and she was angered when she rose and saw the reflection of eyes that had looked on sorrow. She shook her head at the person in the glass and, leaning from the window and finding the garden no less lovely for the traffic of the night, she was enspirited by that example, and ran downstairs to open the front door and let in the morning. Then she turned to face the business of another day. She was amazed to find her stepmother in the kitchen, making pastry by the window, to see the fire burning heartily and the breakfast-things ready on a tray. "What are you doing?" she demanded from the doorway. Mildred Caniper looked round. Her eyes were very bright and Helen waited in dread of the garrulousness of last night, but Mildred spoke with the old incisive tongue, though it moved slowly. "You can see what I am doing." "But you ought not to do it." "I refuse to be an invalid any longer." "And all yesterday you were in bed." "Yesterday is not today, and you may consider yourself second in command again. It is time I was about the house when you and Miriam choose to spend half the night on the moor. I was left in bed with a house unlocked." "But Jim was there." "Jim! Although Dr. Mackenzie gave you the dog, Helen, I have not all that faith in his invincibility." Helen smiled her appreciation of that sentence, though she did not like her stepmother's looks. "I would rather trust Jim's teeth than our bolts and locks, and I told him to take care of you." "That was thoughtful of you!" Mildred said. She rolled her pastry, but it did not please her, and she squeezed the dough into a ball as she turned with unusual haste to Helen. "You must not wander about at night alone." "But on the moor--!" Helen protested. "It's Miriam--Miriam--" the word came vaguely. "You must look after her." "I do try," Helen said, and hearing the strangeness of her own voice she coughed and choked to cover it. "What does that mean?" "What?" Helen's hand was at her throat. "You are trying to deceive me. Something has happened. Tell me at once!" "I swallowed the wrong way," Helen said. "It's hurting still." "I do not believe you." "Oh, but, Notya, you must. You know I don't tell lies. Why should you be so much afraid for Miriam?" "Because--Did I say anything? My head aches a little. In fact, I don't feel well." The rolling-pin fell noisily to the floor. "Tiresome!" she said, and sank into a chair. When Helen returned with the medicine which Zebedee had left for such emergencies, she found her stepmother beside the rolling-pin. Her mouth was open and a little twisted, and she was heavy and unwieldy when Helen raised her body and made it lean against the wall.