[Illustration: HELEN AND HAROLD AT JIM'S BEDSIDE] "Don't you know us, Jim?" asked Harold, going up to the sick boy and bending over him. Jim only replied by an unmeaning stare, and began to mutter inaudibly. "See, Jim, we have brought you some strawberries," said Helen, advancing and opening her basket. A glance of intelligence passed over the lad's face as he looked from Helen to the strawberries, but it faded directly, and the low muttering recommenced. "Can't we do anything for him?" asked Harold in a whisper. "I think that we might make him more comfortable," said Helen, beginning with deft fingers to straighten the bed-clothes and raise the pillows. "And see, his poor mouth is parched. We might moisten his lips." "Well, miss, you are kind, to be sure," said Mrs. Hunt's voice from the doorway; "I can't do for him as I would. There's the children; they must be seen to, and the fowls and the pigs. He was a good lad to me, though he is not my own, and we never had a wrong word, never." "Won't he get better?" asked Harold. "I don't believe as he will," returned the woman. "The very night as he was took I says to his father, he's took for death. And I believe my words is coming true." "Water!" murmured Jim, a look of consciousness stealing into his fever-stricken eyes. The woman hastened to his side and gave the water, not unkindly. "Who's that?" he asked, pointing at Harold. "Why, Jim, don't you know? That's Master Harold come to see you. And the young lady from the Grange, she--" But Jim was already beginning to wander again, and both Harold and Helen were almost due at home, and dared not prolong their stay. "It is so dreadful for him to be alone," said Helen as they stumbled down-stairs preceded by Mrs. Hunt. "May I come and sit with him this afternoon?" Mrs. Hunt assented. She did not want the young lady "bothering about," but it would never do to risk falling out with the Grange. So it was arranged that Helen should return, and then she and Harold started off homewards at a rapid pace. It did occur to Helen to ask her father's permission for this second visit, but when she arrived at home she found that he was out and not expected back until late in the afternoon. Mrs. Desmond was still upstairs, and Helen lunched alone, and afterwards, her head still full of poor Jim, took a few restless turns up and down the garden walks, and then set out for the village. Upon the village a sort of afternoon calm seemed to have fallen. The children were in school, the men at work in the fields, a few of the women were straw-plaiting and gossiping idly at their doors, and these stared and whispered one to another as Helen passed them on her way to the Hunts' cottage. Here all was silent, save that through the open window overhead a sound of Jim's unintelligible muttering could be heard occasionally.