She could have told no one, least of all herself, how long she remained alone in the wan darkness, fighting her losing battle; but her hair and clothing were wet with frosty dew when at last she heard in the far distance the unbroken beat of hoofs. It was a fast horse, driven at furious speed; yet long before the vehicle drew up with a muttered exclamation from its occupant, at sight of her standing there in the moonlight, she knew it was not David. “I’ve got the boy here, and he’s all right,” Jarvis said. “Get in and I’ll—explain.” But he said nothing further in the brief interval that elapsed before they reached the house. Barbara had drawn the sleeping child into her arms, and held him jealously close to her numbed breast. She felt strangely still, unnaturally composed, as Jarvis took the child from her and helped her to alight. “I’m coming in,” he said. “I want to tell you how it happened that I am bringing him home.” “Is David——?” she managed to articulate. “Oh, nothing has happened to Whitcomb—no accident, I mean. Go in; you’re chilled through.” She had taken off Jimmy’s coat and cap, and the child, half awake, was nestled in her arms, when Jarvis followed her into the lighted room, with its table daintily set for three, and its cheer of burning logs, which Barbara had stirred to a blaze. She looked at him in piteous silence as he stood, a tall, sombre figure at her fireside, looking down at her with eyes full of a brooding tenderness of which he was only half aware. He was anxiously searching for words which would hurt least; for a balm of comfort which, he knew, did not exist. Jimmy, rubbing the sleep out of his brown eyes, sat up suddenly in Barbara’s lap. “David didn’t let me stay wiv him,” he quavered. “He—he made me det out ’n’—’n’ he dave me some money; ’n’ a big boy pushed me over and took it away. I ran after David ’n’ called him loud; but he didn’t hear me. ’Nen I got lost.” “I found him,” said Jarvis, “asleep on some straw in the comer of an empty stall.” He smiled reassuringly at Barbara. “The boy appears to need a general washing and putting to rights, I should say; but he isn’t hungry.” “Where,” asked Barbara, in a stifled voice, “is David?” “He’s gone wiv the pretty lady, I guess,” said Jimmy sleepily. “She had roses in her hat. Why don’t you have roses in your hat, Barbara? I like roses.” The little boy suddenly opened his eyes very wide; his mouth followed suit. “Look, Barb’ra,” he shrilled excitedly. “A man dave me a sausage in the middle of a biscuit, ’n’ I was awful hungry an’ I fordot—I mean I forgot—t’ bite wiv my side teef—’n’—’n’—’n’ one o’ my front teef came right out. I lost it on the ground.” Barbara’s questioning eyes were on Jarvis’s face. He turned abruptly as if unable to bear them. “I called loud to David; but he was drinkin’ somethin’ brown out of a tumbler ’n’ he didn’t turn around,” chattered Jimmy, “but the lady, she looked at me, ’n’ she said——” He broke into a nervous laugh.