“Mercy!” shuddered Ethel, “how can you go, dear? They’ll be all maimed and bleeding! There’ll be doctors and—and others to do everything needful. I wouldn’t go—really, dear.” “I know—but there’ll be something else to do. I might help someone—Jennie, for instance, if she found her brother injured. I really want to go—Oh—there she is!” And Miss Fenno hurried after Jennie’s swiftly moving figure. Ethel was restless when her friend had gone. She wandered aimlessly around the grounds, then went indoors and began to play a waltz on the piano. The piece was scarcely half through, however, before her fingers moved more and more slowly, finally straying into a minor wail that ended abruptly in a discordant crash as the player rose from the piano-stool. Miss Barrington’s next move was to take the field-glass from the library and go upstairs to the tower. From there she could see the village and catch occasional glimpses of hurrying forms. She could see the Silver Creek entrance to the mine, too, and she shuddered at the crowds her glasses showed her there. Twice she turned her eyes away and started down the winding stairs, but each time she returned to her old position and gazed in a fascination quite unaccountable to herself at the moving figures in the distance. By and bye she saw the head-gardener coming rapidly up the road from the town. As he entered the driveway she hurried down the stairs and out into the kitchen. “Were there many injured, Peter?” she asked anxiously as the man came into the room. “They don’t know yet, ma’am; they can’t get into the mine. They’re goin’ to try the Beachmont openin’ now.” “Perhaps they won’t find things so bad as they think,” she suggested. “Mebbe not; but them that has come out, ma’am, tell sorry tales of creepin’ over dead men’s bodies—there ain’t much hope for the poor fellers inside now, I’m ’fraid.” “Is—is there anything one can do?” Peter shook his head. “Not much, ma’am. They can’t get in to get ’em out. The young lady from the house here has got her hands full with the women and children. They are takin’ on awful, of course, but she kinder calms ’em down—she and that feller they call Hustler Joe.” Miss Barrington turned away. As she opened the door she stopped abruptly and looked back into the kitchen. “If they need anything, Peter—anything at all—come to me at once,” she said hurriedly, and closed the door behind her. * * * * * It was at dinner the next night that Mr. Barrington said to his general superintendent: “What was the matter with Rotalick today? I heard you laying down the law pretty sharp to him this noon.” “Oh, he wanted a prima donna, that’s all.” “A what?” Hemenway laughed.