“Go and get a blanket,” he ordered.  “She oughtn’t to be lying on the cold wet ground so long.  She doesn’t seem to be coming round.”  He felt Huldah’s pulse, and laid his hand over her heart.  “It is beating,” he muttered, in a tone of relief.  Then he lifted her on to the blanket, and wrapped her in it, then bathed her brow again, until presently a faint quiver of the body and a fluttering sigh showed that consciousness was returning.

At last Huldah opened her eyes and looked vaguely about her, wondering where she was.  At sight of her aunt and the policeman the old look of terror came back to her face, and she struggled to sit up.

“Don’t you hurry yourself, now,” said the policeman, kindly.  “And don’t you be afraid of me.  I’ve come to look after you, and take you back to your friends.”

“You can’t,” muttered Emma Smith, sullenly.  “She’s mine.  The child’s right enough; they all want a hiding sometimes.”

“Sometimes, perhaps, but not constant; and never as you lays it on.  I should be taking you up for murder if you did it often in your way!”

Emma Smith only looked more sullen.  “Well, she’s mine, and no one else’s, and I’m going to keep her.”

“Look here, my woman, what’s the good of going on like that?  You’ve got to prove, first of all, that she is yours, and then that you’re a fit and proper person to have her.  In the meantime I’ve got my orders to fetch her away, and if you want her you can apply to the magistrates, and prove to them all that you’ve been saying.  Now, then, where’s her bonnet and shawl?”

“She hasn’t got any,” sulkily.

“Then you’ve got to provide her with some.  Hurry up; but first of all, has she had anything to eat or drink to-day?”

“No, nor won’t have.  I haven’t got anything for myself.”

“That seems unlucky; but if you’ll come along of me you shall have a good cup of tea and a bit of breakfast.  Now then, missie, are you ready?”

Huldah had sat speechless all this time.  She felt giddy and ill, and quite worn out.  She was so dazed too, she could not think what to do, or what she ought to do.  Things seemed to have got beyond her, and to be taken out of her hands.

She struggled to her feet, and let the policeman wrap her, head and all, in the old shawl.  She wondered vaguely if she would feel better able to walk when once she had started; but even the standing on her feet seemed too much for her, and it was with a real sense of relief that she felt the man lift her in his arms and stride away with her.

No word of farewell was said, but in a moment or two she heard her aunt’s rough voice calling after them, “You’ve no right to that dog, and if you takes him I’ll have the law of you!”

The policeman stopped, and turned round.  “Oh, by the way, I’ve forgot one thing now.  I want to see your dog-licence.”

But Emma Smith only walked away into the van muttering angrily, and banging the door after her, left them to go their way in peace.