“Oh, I am so silly,” she said, “but I am afraid I cannot stand the sight of it.” Kathleen sprang at once to her feet. “Is there no one there?” she demanded with a touch of impatience in her voice, and passed quickly into the room, where she stayed while the doctor snipped off the frayed patches of skin and flesh and tied up the broken arteries, giving aid with quick fingers and steady hands till all was over. “You have done this sort of thing before, Miss Gwynne?” said the doctor. “No, never,” she replied. “Well, you certainly are a brick,” he said, turning admiring eyes upon her. He was a young man and unmarried. “But this is a little too much for you.” From a decanter which stood on a side table he poured out a little spirits. “Drink this,” he said. “No, thank you, Doctor, I am quite right,” said Kathleen, quietly picking up the bloody debris and dropping them into a basin which she carried into the other room. “He is all right now,” she said to Mrs. Waring-Gaunt, who took the basin from her, exclaiming, “My poor dear, you are awfully white. I am ashamed of myself. Now you must lie down at once.” “No, please, I shall go home, I think. Where is Nora?” “Nora has gone home. You won't lie down a little? Then Tom shall take you in the car. You are perfectly splendid. I did not think you had it in you.” “Oh, don't, don't,” cried the girl, a quick rush of tears coming to her eyes. “I must go, I must go. Oh, I feel terrible. I don't know what I have done. Let me go home.” She almost pushed Mrs. Waring-Gaunt from her and went out of the house and found Tom standing by the car smoking. “Take her home, Tom,” said his wife. “She needs rest.” “Come along, Kathleen; rest--well, rather. Get in beside me here. Feel rather rotten, eh, what? Fine bit of work, good soldier--no, don't talk--monologue indicated.” And monologue it was till he delivered her, pale, weary and spent, to her mother. CHAPTER XIV AN EXTRAORDINARY NURSE “A letter for you, Nora,” said Larry, coming just in from the post office. “From Jane!” cried Nora, tearing open the letter. “Oh, glory,” she continued. “They are coming. Let's see, written on the ninth, leaving to-morrow and arrive at Melville Station on the twelfth. Why, that's tomorrow.” “Who, Nora?” said Larry. “Jane?” “Yes, Jane and her father. She says, 'We mean to stay two or three days, if you can have us, on our way to Banff.'” “Hurrah! Good old Jane! What train did you say?” cried Larry. “Sixteen-forty-five to-morrow at Melville Station.” “'We'll have one trunk and two boxes, so you will need some sort of rig, I am afraid. I hope this will not be too much trouble.'” “Isn't that just like Jane?” said Larry. “I bet you she gives the size of the trunk, doesn't she, Nora?” “A steamer trunk and pretty heavy, she says.” “Same old girl. Does she give you the colour?” inquired Larry. “Like an old maid, she is.”