“His mother's dead,” said Bobbie, “and his father's in Northumberland. Oh, Mother, you will be nice to him? I told him I was sure you'd want us to bring him home. You always want to help everybody.” Mother smiled, but she sighed, too. It is nice that your children should believe you willing to open house and heart to any and every one who needs help. But it is rather embarrassing sometimes, too, when they act on their belief. “Oh, well,” said Mother, “we must make the best of it.” When Jim was carried in, dreadfully white and with set lips whose red had faded to a horrid bluey violet colour, Mother said:-- “I am glad you brought him here. Now, Jim, let's get you comfortable in bed before the Doctor comes!” And Jim, looking at her kind eyes, felt a little, warm, comforting flush of new courage. “It'll hurt rather, won't it?” he said. “I don't mean to be a coward. You won't think I'm a coward if I faint again, will you? I really and truly don't do it on purpose. And I do hate to give you all this trouble.” “Don't you worry,” said Mother; “it's you that have the trouble, you poor dear--not us.” And she kissed him just as if he had been Peter. “We love to have you here--don't we, Bobbie?” “Yes,” said Bobbie--and she saw by her Mother's face how right she had been to bring home the wounded hound in the red jersey. Chapter XIII. The hound's grandfather. Mother did not get back to her writing all that day, for the red-jerseyed hound whom the children had brought to Three Chimneys had to be put to bed. And then the Doctor came, and hurt him most horribly. Mother was with him all through it, and that made it a little better than it would have been, but “bad was the best,” as Mrs. Viney said. The children sat in the parlour downstairs and heard the sound of the Doctor's boots going backwards and forwards over the bedroom floor. And once or twice there was a groan. “It's horrible,” said Bobbie. “Oh, I wish Dr. Forrest would make haste. Oh, poor Jim!” “It IS horrible,” said Peter, “but it's very exciting. I wish Doctors weren't so stuck-up about who they'll have in the room when they're doing things. I should most awfully like to see a leg set. I believe the bones crunch like anything.” “Don't!” said the two girls at once. “Rubbish!” said Peter. “How are you going to be Red Cross Nurses, like you were talking of coming home, if you can't even stand hearing me say about bones crunching? You'd have to HEAR them crunch on the field of battle--and be steeped in gore up to the elbows as likely as not, and--” “Stop it!” cried Bobbie, with a white face; “you don't know how funny you're making me feel.” “Me, too,” said Phyllis, whose face was pink. “Cowards!” said Peter. “I'm not,” said Bobbie. “I helped Mother with your rake-wounded foot, and so did Phil--you know we did.”