"Now, Charlotte, you next. Come, Mary; come children. Basil and Bartlemy, you and I are going to crowd up outside. It has been a horrible night; I don't believe any of us are up to walking," he said, as he closed the carriage door. "I've got to attend Bruce's wounds, and I'm going to take him to the little grey house where there will be some one besides a housekeeper to nurse him, Mary." "Yes, of course," said Mrs. Grey, not fully understanding what was happening, and still clinging thankfully to Miss Charlotte. Rob sat opposite to Bruce staring at him with big, frightened eyes. He had been in that horrible danger, and he was hurt! Bruce looked at her, then at his two brothers, whose faces were ghastly, and at Wythie crying quietly in the corner. He smiled, in spite of his pain. "I'm all right, boys and girls--and Rob," he said. "I thought we had Rutherfords to burn, while there was only one Miss Charlotte." CHAPTER FIVE ITS HERO The crowded carriage bringing its exhausted occupants the short distance which lay between what had been Miss Charlotte's home and the little grey house, revealed the latter bright with lights as it drew near. The sight cheered every one; it seemed as though nothing could be seriously wrong as long as the lights of home gleamed forth unchanged. Prue had the front door open before the carriage stopped, and ran down the flagged walk to meet it. She caught Cousin Peace in her arms with a depth of feeling that delighted her mother--a girl could not be in great danger from worldliness who thus appreciated one who was the embodiment of unworldliness. Basil and the doctor, with Bartlemy tenderly aiding, led Bruce into the house, and got him on the ample couch in the dining-room which the Grey girls still called "their nurse," in remembrance of babyhood days when it faithfully tended them. It was on occasions like this--no, there had never been an occasion in the least like this, but in emergencies, that Lydia's gravely responsible mind scored heavily. That venerable young woman had a brisk fire burning in the kitchen when the family and its guests came back, and the tea-kettle was steaming to the boiling point. Lydia had early been trained in all emergencies to have hot water in the tea-kettle, and she now faithfully lived up to the traditions of her forebears. Dr. Fairbairn rubbed his hands with satisfaction as he glanced into the kitchen to see what were the prospects there. "Lydia," he said, "your common sense would do credit to seven older women, if it were subdivided among them. Will you make coffee in abundance and rather strong and as quick as you can? Your tea-kettle is ready, I see." "My grandmother always said that to have your kettle always full of hot water, and your Bible thumbed was a sign that you were the woman of Proverbs, and a comfort to your family," said Lydia with a sort of solemn self-satisfaction. "I'd ought to be commonsensed; _she_ was."