Dora still held her, standing above her, and looking down at her, trying hard to read her true mind. Lucy bore it defiantly for a minute; then suddenly two large tears rose. A quiver passed over Dora's face; she kissed her cousin quickly, and went towards the door. 'And I'll find out what father's going to do, or my name isn't what it is!' said the girl behind her, in a shrill, shaking voice, as she closed the door. * * * * * Dora ran back to Market Place, filled with a presentiment that she was late, though the hand of the Cathedral clock was still far from three. At the side door stood a woman with a shawl over her head, looking distractedly up the street. 'Oh, Miss Dora! Miss Dora! they've sent. He's gooin--gooin quick. An' he keeps wearyin' for "mither an' Miss Dora."' The powerful scarred face had the tremulous helplessness of grief. Dora took her by the arm. 'Let us run, Sarah--at once. Oh, never mind the work!' The two women hurried through the crowded Saturday streets. But halfway up Market Street Sarah stopped short, looking round her in an agony. 'Theer's his feyther, Miss Dora. Oh, he wor a bad 'un to me, but he had allus a soft spot for t' lad. I'd be reet glad to send worrud. He wor theer in the ward, they tell't me, last week.' Three years before she had separated from her husband, a sawyer, by mutual consent. He was younger than she, and he had been grossly unfaithful to her; she came of a good country stock and her daleswoman's self-respect could put up with him no longer. But she had once been passionately in love with him, and, as she said, he had been on the whole kind to the boy. 'Where is he?' said Dora. 'At Mr. Whitelaw's yard, Edgell Street, Great Ancoats.' They had just entered the broad Infirmary Square. Dora, looking round her in perplexity, suddenly saw coming towards them the tall figure of David Grieve. The leap of the heart of which she was conscious through all her preoccupation startled her. But she went up to him without a moment's hesitation. David, swinging along as though Manchester belonged to him, found himself arrested and, looking down, saw Dora's pale and agitated face. 'Mr. Grieve, will you help me?' She drew him to the side and explained as quickly as she could. Sarah stood by, and threw in directions. 'He'll be to be found at Mr. Whitelaw's yard--Edgell Street--an' whoever goos mun just say to him, "Sarah says to tha--Wilt tha coom, or wilt tha not coom?--t' lad's deein."' She threw out the words with a sombre simplicity and force, then, her whole frame quivering with impatience, she crossed the road to the Infirmary without waiting for Dora. 'Can you send some one?' said Dora. 'I will go myself at once. I'll find the man if he's there, and bring him. You leave it to me.' He turned without more ado, broke into a run, and disappeared round the corner of Oldham Street.