And then the strain that had been on the heart of my poor girl seemed to give way, suddenly. The tension was released, like a powerful spring, and the hardness went out of her face. She dropped my arm and dashed past the man who sought her help, and entered the place, where I followed as fast as my leg would let me.

First she looked towards the child, which I suppose she expected to see under a sheet that would have just revealed the stark little form, but the little thing was smiling at her, weakly.

"_Je vous aime bien_" he said.

Then her eyes filled with tears, and she turned towards the man who, with a gesture of his hand, had swept her from his path. He had arisen on her entrance, and leaned hard on the back of the chair. To my surprise he spoke quite composedly, and I realized I had made an awful mistake.

"This is all wrong, Miss Jelliffe," he said. "I tried to prevent Yves from calling you. The child has diphtheria and you must leave at once."

The man's voice was frightfully hoa.r.s.e, and he unconsciously put his hand up to his throat. She looked at him without answering. Then she went up to the little table and picked up a small vial she had noticed.

"Ant.i.toxine, seven thousand units," she read. Then she took up a small gla.s.s syringe armed with a bright steel needle, and stared at it.

"You have given it to the child?" she asked.

"Yes, just a few minutes ago," he answered. "We only left Edward's Bay at sunrise. The man is getting well. I was told of this case and went up to Sammy's for the ant.i.toxine."

"But it was the last you had!" she cried, "and Atkins has only been able to start this morning for more, and the wind is very bad for him. It may be days before he returns."

The man shrugged his shoulders, very slightly, and Helen went up to him, scrutinizing his face, silently. Then she put her fingers on the wrist that was supporting his hand on the back of the chair.

"I am not well," he said, "and I wish you would leave. I think I will have to let Mrs. Barnett into this mess. She's away at Goslett's house, where they expect a baby."

"How long have you known that you had diphtheria too?" asked Helen, and I could detect in her voice an intensity of reproof that was wonderful, for she was scolding the man, just as excited mothers sometimes scold a little one that has fallen down and hurt itself.

"I was beginning to feel it last night," he answered, "but please go away now, for it is dangerous."

Then he addressed me.

"Mr. Jelliffe, do take her away. I hear that she was here last night and remained for hours. You will take her away to St. John's at once, and have her given a preventive injection. Now please hurry off."

I could see that the poor chap's voice rasped his throat painfully. His two hands dropped to his side, with the palms turned forward, in a feeble gesture of entreaty.

"You knew this morning that you had it," said Helen again. "And you only had that vial and used it all for the boy."

He nodded, with another slight shrug of his shoulders.

"I see that you have been playing the game!" she said quietly.

Then she turned to me, seizing one of my arms.

"Hurry!" she cried. "You must hurry, Daddy. Why don't you go on? He has diphtheria, and perhaps half the people here will have it now. Perhaps he is going to die! Come, Daddy, you must hurry. The _s...o...b..rd_ will take you to St. John's and you must buy ant.i.toxine, a lot of it, and come back with it at once. And you should get a doctor, and a nurse or two, and I will stay here, and please don't look at me that way! Do hurry, Daddy!

Oh! I was forgetting your poor leg. Never mind, take your time, Daddy, but as soon as you are on board make them hurry. Susie will stay with me.

A few days won't matter, Daddy!"

"Oh! Daughter. Please come," I implored her. "I promise that I will send the yacht back at once with a doctor and everything."

She looked at me in amazed surprise.

"But how can I leave now, Dad?" she asked. "Don't you understand that a lot of people may die if you don't get help at once, and of course I must stay. You will do your best, won't you? Come, dear, and let me help you down the path. You can be gone in a few minutes."

"Leave you here!" I exclaimed, indignantly. "You are crazy, girl! I'll stay with you, of course. Here, some of you fellows, run down to the cove and tell my skipper to come here at once."

So I stood there, just outside the door, watching a man scramble down the road, who finally returned with Stefansson. Helen stood perfectly still, except for the toe of one of her boots, which was tapping a tattoo on the boards.

"Get the _s...o...b..rd_ under weigh at once," I shouted. "Run up to St.

John's and buy all the ant.i.toxine you can get hold of, any amount, barrels of it, if it comes that way. And bring a doctor back with you.

Promise him all the money he wants. And get a nurse, or a couple of them, or a dozen. Regular trained nurses, you understand. Yes, it's ant.i.toxine I want. Write it down. It's the stuff they use for diphtheria. Then get back here at once. Carry all the sail she'll bear and all the steam she'll take. Look lively and don't waste a minute. Here, you Sammy! Go aboard too and help pilot her back if it's dark or foggy. Good luck to you and jump her for all she's worth!"

I suppose I spoke like a crazy man, but the two started down hill.

Stefansson, who has long legs, only beat the old fellow by a skip and a jump. Then I saw the men casting off the hawsers, and the thin film of smoke became black, and the good old _s...o...b..rd_ shook herself. I was tickled to see how a crew of chaps used to count seconds in racing were handling her. She was moving, the smoke pouring thicker and thicker from her funnel, and the screw began to churn hard. Then her sharp bowsprit turned around a little, till it was aimed at that cleft between the rocks. She gathered speed and struck the billowing seas outside and turned a bit. Then the big sails began to rise, as did the jibs, and I saw a man run out to the end of the bowsprit as a thick white rope ran up to the fore topmast head and broke out into a fleecy white cloud of silk.

Then, under the great balloon jib topsail my little ship flew off like a scared bird and disappeared behind the edges of the cliffs.

"Byes, did yer ever see the like o' that?" shouted an old fisherman, enthusiastically. "My, but Sammy's a lucky dog ter be gettin' sich a sail. I'd give a quintal fer the chance."

I must say that I was pleased with this expert appreciation, and began to feel better.

"But why didn't we send the doctor on her?" I suddenly asked. "He would have been attended to sooner. We could have taken him with us."

"He wouldn't have gone," said Helen, whose cheeks had now become red with excitement. "He would never leave until some one came to take his place.

He thinks he can still help that child of Frenchy's."

So after a time we returned to the house we had thought we were seeing the last of, and it seemed very different, having been dismantled of many things which were now lying on the dock.

Helen sat down for a moment, putting her elbows on the table and resting her face on her hands. So of course I went to her, and stroked her head, and she looked at me with eyes that were full of tears.

"I'm ashamed," she said. "At first I thought just as you did. I was sure he had been drinking. And he seemed so awfully rude when he motioned me away. But he could hardly drag himself, the poor fellow, and he was trying to keep me away from him, because he was afraid for me."

She was utterly disconsolate, and I could only keep on stroking the child's head as I used to, when she came to seek consolation for babyish sorrows. Of course I was worried about her, and realized how helpless I was. She hadn't grown over night, naturally, yet something appeared to have been added to her stature. She was a woman now, full of the instincts of womanhood, and she was escaping from my influence. Her life was shaping itself independently of me. It is pretty tough, Jennie, to see one's ewe lamb slipping away. She loves me dearly, I know it, but she is now flowering into something that will never be entirely mine again, and the realization of it is cutting my heart.

After a moment she was restless again, and we went out on the porch. We could hear Susie Sweetapple messing about in her kitchen, whose destinies she again cheerfully controls, and presently some men came down the road, carrying a bed.

"'Un says he've got ter have his bed at Frenchy's," one of them explained to me.

"'Un's scared to give the diphtherias ter Sammy's young 'uns."

They started again, wiping their brows, for the late September day was growing warm, and soon after we saw a small boat entering the cove and Helen, who seems to know everything about this place, declared that it was not one of our boats, as she calls the fleet at Sweetapple Cove. It reached the dock and a man jumped out while the sails were still slatting.

Susie had stuck her head out of the window.

"'Un's parson comin'," she announced.

Mr. Barnett hastened towards us as fast as his little legs would carry him. He pa.s.sed Frenchy's house, not knowing that the doctor was there, and stopped in surprise when he saw us.

"I thought I was too late!" he exclaimed. "We saw the _s...o...b..rd_ flying, miles away, and I thought I should never see you again."

"The doctor is at Frenchy's!" cried Helen. "He is dreadfully ill. Please go and see what you can do for him."