“There, there, poor dear, who could help being good to you, seeing you lie there as helpless as a baby, with your poor arms all done up in cotton wool, and the pain hard to bear? Never mind, the Lord will help you to bear it, and He knows what pain means.” And with this homely consolation Molly left me and went in search of Hannah. When Gay came to me to see I was all comfortable for the night, I asked her rather anxiously if she expected to hear from Mrs. Morton in the morning. She looked as though she were sorry I had asked the question. “Well, no—the fact is, I wrote the letter, Merle, but father forgot to post it, and it has not gone yet. I am very sorry,” as I uttered an exclamation of annoyance, “but it cannot be helped, and it was all father’s fault; he is so careless with letters; but now Adelaide has written to say how well Reggie seems to-day, and both of them shall go by the same post to-morrow morning. Benson shall take them.” It was no use saying any more. Gay was sorry enough, and it was not her fault, so I only asked her to add a word or two to explain the delay, and this she promised to do. She wanted to write to Aunt Agatha as well, but I would not hear of this. Aunt Agatha was very tender-hearted, and could not bear to hear of any suffering that she could not remedy, and I could see no benefit in harrowing her feelings. I would tell her myself one day. Dr. Staples had given me a sedative, so I slept more that night, but it was three days before I could leave my bed, and all that time we heard nothing of my mistress. On the fourth day I put on a dressing-gown Gay lent me, with loose hanging sleeves, for my arms were still swathed like mummies, but the pain had lessened; and though I was weak enough only to lean back in an easy chair and watch the children at their play, I liked to be with them, and it was pleasant to sit by the nursery window and look out on the terrace and sundial and the sunny orchard with the old white pony grazing as usual. Gay had come up that morning with rather a troubled face. They had had a letter from Alick, she said, but he had not received either hers or Adelaide’s. Violet had seemed so ill that he had taken her home to Prince’s Gate that Dr. Myrtle might see her. They had left Abergeldie before their letters had arrived, and he could not possibly receive them until the next morning, but of course they would be forwarded at once. I was much distressed to hear that the letters had miscarried, and still more that my mistress was ill. It was dreary taking her back to that great empty house; but then Dr. Myrtle understood her constitution, and would do her more good than a stranger. I begged Gay to tell me what was the matter, but she did not seem to know. It was a collapse, Alick had said, a sudden serious failure of strength; he had written very hurriedly, and seemed worried and anxious.