Both resented his making light of injuries so sensational as theirs; and Robert released his voice in an intolerable howl. “There is, _too_! An’ if I got to _die_——” “Stop that!” Renfrew commanded. “How many times must I tell you? You’re not any more likely to die than I am!” With that he was aware of a furious maiden entering the gate and running toward them across the lawn, and even as she sped, completing a hasty “putting up” of her hair. “If he isn’t ‘likely to die,’” she cried, “I’d be glad to know whose fault it is! Not yours, I think, Renfrew Mears!” At sight of his sister, Master Eliot bellowed anew; he wanted to tell his troubles all over again; but emotion in the presence of sympathy was too much for him; and once more he became all vowels, so that nothing definite could be gathered. Muriel clasped him to her. “Poor darling Bobby!” she said. “Don’t cry, darling! _Sister’ll_ take care of you!” “Here,” said Renfrew, proffering a fresh handkerchief. “Be careful. His nose isn’t _quite_——” She took the handkerchief and applied it, but gave the donor no thanks. “I never in all my life saw anything like it!” she exclaimed. “I never saw anything to compare with it!” “Why, it didn’t amount to so very much,” Renfrew said mildly, though he was surprised at her vehemence. “The children were playing, and they got to teasing, and Robert got tapped on the——” “‘Tapped!’” she cried. “He might have been killed! But what I meant was _you_!” “Me?” “Certainly! You! I never saw anything like your behaviour, and I saw it all from the sofa in my room. If I hadn’t had to dress, I’d have been over here in time to stop it long before you did, Renfrew Mears!” “Why, I don’t understand at all,” he protested feebly. “You seem angry with _me_! But all I’ve done was to put cold water on Robert’s nose.” “That’s it!” she cried. “You stood there—I _saw_ you. You stood there, and never lifted a finger while those children were having the most dreadful fight _with croquet mallets_, not forty feet from you! They might _all_ have been killed; and my poor darling little brother almost _was_ killed——” At this, Robert interrupted her with fresh outcries, and clung to her pitifully. She soothed him, and turned her flashing and indignant eyes upon Renfrew. “You stood there, not like a man but like a block of wood,” she said. “You didn’t even _look_ at them!” “Why, no,” said Renfrew. “I was looking at your window.” Apparently he felt that this was an explanation that explained everything. He seemed to imply that any man would naturally demean himself like a block of wood while engaged in the act of observation he mentioned, even though surrounded by circumstances of murder.