Duly shaved with one of Stanley’s razors, bathed, and breakfasted, Felix was on the point of getting into the car to return to Joyfields when he received a message from his mother:  Would he please go up and see her before he went?

He found her looking anxious and endeavoring to conceal it.

Having kissed him, she drew him to her sofa and said:  “Now, darling, come and sit down here, and tell me all about this dreadful business.”  And taking up an odorator she blew over him a little cloud of scent.  “It’s quite a new perfume; isn’t it delicious?”

Felix, who dreaded scent, concealed his feelings, sat down, and told her.  And while he told her he was conscious of how pathetically her fastidiousness was quivering under those gruesome details—­fighting with policemen, fighting with common men, prison—­ for A lady; conscious too of her still more pathetic effort to put a good face on it.  When he had finished she remained so perfectly still, with lips so hard compressed, that he said: 

“It’s no good worrying, Mother.”

Frances Freeland rose, pulled something hard, and a cupboard appeared.  She opened it, and took out a travelling-bag.

“I must go back with you at once,” she said.

“I don’t think it’s in the least necessary, and you’ll only knock yourself up.”

“Oh, nonsense, darling!  I must.”

Knowing that further dissuasion would harden her determination, Felix said:  “I’m going in the car.”

“That doesn’t matter.  I shall be ready in ten minutes.  Oh! and do you know this?  It’s splendid for taking lines out under the eyes!” She was holding out a little round box with the lid off.  “Just wet your finger with it, and dab it gently on.”

Touched by this evidence of her deep desire that he should put as good a face on it as herself, Felix dabbed himself under the eyes.

“That’s right.  Now, wait for me, dear; I shan’t be a minute.  I’ve only to get my things.  They’ll all go splendidly in this little bag.”

In a quarter of an hour they had started.  During that journey Frances Freeland betrayed no sign of tremor.  She was going into action, and, therefore, had no patience with her nerves.

“Are you proposing to stay, Mother?” Felix hazarded; “because I don’t think there’s a room for you.”

“Oh! that’s nothing, darling.  I sleep beautifully in a chair.  It suits me better than lying down.”  Felix cast up his eyes, and made no answer.

On arriving, they found that the doctor had been there, expressed his satisfaction, and enjoined perfect quiet.  Tod was on the point of starting back to Transham, where Sheila and the two laborers would be brought up before the magistrates.  Felix and Kirsteen took hurried counsel.  Now that Mother, whose nursing was beyond reproach, had come, it would be better if they went with Tod.  All three started forthwith in the car.