"Eh, what? Oh, a poor fellow broken his leg in the chalk pit. Doctor's with him now. What is he like? Kind of tourist, I should fancy; evidently didn't see his way in the dark. There, run off to bed, Kitty; you'll hear all about it in the morning." "But I want to hear _now_," said the child, quivering with impatience. "What sort of man is he, daddy? Shall I like him, do you think? Oh, do tell, daddy!" "My child, I hardly noticed. My hat--ah, thanks! He had a black beard, I fancy,--quite young though, I should say,--and a sallow face--" "How unhealthy it sounds; and I hate unhealthy people! I don't think I want to go now," said Katharine, in an altered tone. Nevertheless, when the unwilling pony was being urged again into the storm and the darkness, some one slipped through the little group in the porch, and sprang into the carriage beside the Rector. And the Rector, who was incapable of a decided action himself and never disputed one on the part of others, threw the rug over her knees, and they drove off together to the scene of the accident. It was a wild, black night; and the Rector shivered as he bent his head to the furious gusts of wind, and allowed the pony to struggle on feebly at its own pace. But Katharine sat upright with her head thrown back, and would have liked to laugh aloud as the wind caught her long loose hair and lashed it, wet with rain, across her face. The chalk pit was situated at the further end of the village; on a fine day, it might have been reached in a ten minutes' drive, but to-night it was nearly half an hour before the pony managed to bring its load to a standstill beside the group of men who had been waiting there since dusk. Katharine recognised all the village familiars who came forward at their approach,--the doctor, who had tended her childish maladies; the schoolmaster, who had taught her to read; the churchwarden, who still loved to tell her stories that she had long ago learnt to know by heart. But she had no eyes for any of these to-night; she looked beyond them all, as she jumped lightly out of the carriage, at the man who lay on the ground with his eyes closed. A lantern hung from the branch above, and swung to and fro in the wind, casting intermittent gleams of light across his face. He opened his eyes wearily as the Rector came forward, and they rested at once upon Katharine, who stood bending over him with the rather heartless curiosity of a very young girl. "Kitty, move out of the way, my child," the Rector's voice was saying. "I don't think he looks unhealthy at all," said Katharine dreamily. CHAPTER II