Meanwhile Susie was taken to the hospital and carried into a room containing four beds. Over one hung a card with "Susie Hartland" written on it, and the child smiled with pleasure on seeing the snowy sheets and soft white pillows and pretty counterpane. Then, when she was cozily tucked up, her mother sat and talked to her cheerfully, and a nurse brought games and picture-books with which she could amuse herself later on. She cried a little when the time came for parting with her mother, but the nurse was so kind and gentle that she soon dried her tears. Mrs. Hartland felt the separation too, especially in the evening, when she sat alone with her work. Although an invalid, Susie was always bright and cheerful, and her good spirits had done much to lessen her mother’s grief. The excitement attending his sister’s going away had buoyed Jim up, and kept him from moping, but now he began to brood over the unlucky accident at the Old Fort. Although a strong, healthy boy, he was extremely sensitive, and conjured up all sorts things that existed only in his imagination. School no longer had any attraction for him; he cut himself adrift from his old companions, even endeavouring to shake Dick off, but the Angel stuck to him resolutely. "You’re a silly duffer, Jim," said he, with charming frankness. "What’s the use of moping about like a barn owl? You did your best to save Braithwaite, and you can’t bring him back to life, anyhow. I’m as sorry as you, but pulling a long face won’t do any good." "Every one’s down on me," answered Jim sulkily. "Laythorne hardly speaks, and the fellows look as if I had committed a murder; and it’s just the same in the town. I’m sick of it. I wish I’d been drowned myself." "Pooh!" said Dick; "you’re talking rubbish. I’m ashamed of you, Jim, ’pon my word. I thought you had more grit. I’m sure no one could have been kinder than Laythorne; and as for the fellows—why, half of them think you’re a greater hero than Nelson. You should hear ’em talk!" "I’ve a good mind to get a berth on board ship," said Jim gloomily. "What? and leave your mother and sister? Well you’re a bigger coward than I ever took you for, Jim Hartland!" This was the first unpleasantness that had occurred between the two chums; but Dick was in dead earnest and did not mince his words. Better balanced than Jim, he took a more sensible view of things. He admitted they had acted foolishly, and without thought; but they had done their best, Jim especially, to remedy the mistake. They bitterly regretted not being able to rescue their companion, but to Dick’s mind this was no reason why they should spoil their own lives. It is likely enough that Jim would have come round to this view, but for an unexpected event which revived the interest in Braithwaite’s death.