“No, and if he does I will take care of you.”

“He may be—­armed.”

Suddenly the girl reeled.  “Don’t let me faint away.  I won’t faint away,” she said in an angry voice.  James saw that she was actually biting her lips to overcome the faintness.

“If you will sit down on that rock for a moment,” said James, “I have something in my medicine-case which will revive you.  I am a doctor.”

“I shall faint away if I sit down and give up to it, if I swallow your whole case,” said the girl weakly.  “I know myself.  Let me hold your arm and walk, and don’t make me talk, then I can get over it.”  She was biting her lips almost to bleeding.

James walked on as he was bidden, with the slender little brown-clad figure clinging to him.  He realized that he had fallen in with a girl who had a will which was possibly superior to anything in his medicine-case when it came to overcoming fright.

They walked on until they came in sight of a farm-house, when the girl spoke again, and James saw that the color was returning to her face.  “I am all right now,” said she, and withdrew her hand from his arm.  She gave her head an angry, whimsical shake.  “I am ashamed of myself,” said she, “but I was horribly frightened, and sometimes I do faint.  I can generally get the better of myself, but sometimes I can’t.  It always makes me so angry.  I do hope you don’t think I am such an awful coward, because I am not.”

“I think most girls whom I have known would have made much more fuss than you did,” said James.  “You never screamed.”

“I never did scream in my life,” said the girl.  “I don’t think I could.  I don’t know how.  I think if I did scream, I should certainly faint.”

James stopped and opened his medicine-case.  “I think you had better take just a swallow of brandy,” said he.

The girl thrust back the bottle which he offered her with high disdain.  “Brandy,” said she, “just because I have been frightened a little!  I should be ashamed of myself if I did such a thing.  I am ashamed now for almost fainting away, but I should never forgive myself if I took brandy because of it.  If I haven’t nerve enough to keep straight without brandy, I should be a pretty poor specimen of a girl.”  She looked at him indignantly, and James saw what he had not seen before (he had been so engrossed with the strangeness of the situation), that she was a beautiful girl with a singular type of beauty.  She was very small, but she gave the impression of intense springiness and wiriness.  Although she was thin, no one could have called her delicate.  She looked as much alive as a flame, with nerves on the surface from head to heel.  Her eyes were blue, not large, but full of light, her hair, which tossed around her face in a soft fluff, was ash-blonde.  Brown was the last color, theoretically, which she should have worn, but it suited her.  The ash and brown, the two neutral tints, served to bring out