Page 192 - A Little Bush Maid

"You should have kept still, dear," said her father. "Why did you go out?"

"T felt rummy," said his daughter inelegantly; "a queer, whirly-go-round
feeling. T guessed T must be going to tumble over. Tt didn’t seem any good

making a duffer of myself when you were busy with the Hermit, so T cut
out."

Dick Stephenson turned sharply and, without a word, strode back into the
tent.

Norah turned with a sudden movement to her father, clinging to the rough
serge of his coat. Something like a tear fell on her upturned face as the

strong arms enfolded her.

"Why--Daddy--dear old Dad!" she whispered.

Tt was nearly twilight when Dr. Anderson and black Billy rode into the

clearing, to the joy of the anxious watchers.

The doctor did not waste any words. He slipped off his horse and entered
the tent. Presently Dick Stephenson came out and sat down beside Norah to
await the verdict.

"T can’t do any good there," he said, "and there’s no room."

Norah nodded. Just then there seemed nothing to say to this son whose
father, so lately given back from the grave, seemed to be slipping away

again without a word. She slid her hand into his and felt his fingers close
warmly upon it.

"T can stand it," he said brokenly, after a little, "if he can only know we--the
world--knows he was never guilty--if T can only tell him that. T can’t bear

him to die not knowing that."

"He’d know it anyhow."