Further solacing words died on his lips.
"It's the worst possible thing that could happen to him. Everybody
knows that"--then she looked after Daddy John. "Get the whisky at
once," she called. "I'll find the medicines."
"Can't I help?" the young man implored.
Without answering she started for the wagon, and midway between it and
the fire paused to cry back over her shoulder:
"Heat water, or if you can find stones heat them. We must get him
warm."
And she ran on.
David looked about for the stones. The "we" consoled him a little, but
he felt as if he were excluded into outer darkness, and at a moment
when she should have turned to him for the aid he yearned to give. He
could not get over the suddenness of it, and watched them forlornly,
gazing enviously at their conferences over the medicine chest, once
straightening himself from his search for stones to call longingly:
"Can't I do something for you over there?"
"Have you the stones?" she answered without raising her head, and he
went back to his task.
In distress she had turned from the outside world, broken every lien of
interest with it, and gone back to her own.
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