“Oh, oh, oh, I feel as if he had died for me,” she sobbed.

“He would a died for you, miss,” said Tom, drawing his sleeve across his eyes, “so would we all.”

“Miss Baron,” resumed the doctor gravely, “remember poor Yarry’s last words, ’Don’t wear yourself—­he couldn’t finish the sentence, but you know what he meant.  You must grant the request of one who tried to do what he could for you.  As a physician also I must warn you to rest until morning.  You can do more for these men and others by first doing as Yarry wished,” and he led her away.

They had not gone far before they met Uncle Lusthah.  The girl stopped and said, “Doctor, won’t you let Uncle Lusthah bury him to-morrow down by the run?  I’ll show him the place.”

“Yes, Miss Baron, we all will do anything you wish if you only rest to-night.  I tell you frankly you endanger yourself and your chance to do anything more for the wounded by continuing the strain which these scenes put upon you.”

“I reckon you’re right,” she said, “I feel as if I could hardly stand.”

“I know.  Take my arm and go at once to your room.”

On the way they encountered Whately.  “Cousin! where on earth have you been?  You look ready to faint.”

His presence and all that he implied began to steady her nerves at once, but she made no reply.

“She has witnessed a painful scene, Lieutenant,” began the surgeon.

“You have no business to permit her to witness such scenes,” Whately interrupted sternly.  “You should see that she’s little more than an inexperienced child and—­”

“Hush, sir,” said Miss Lou.  “Who has given you the right to dictate to me or to this gentleman?  I’m in no mood for any more such words, cousin.  To-day, at least, no one has taken advantage of my inexperience.  Good-evening,” and she passed on, leaving him chafing in impatient anger and protest.

At the house Mrs. Whately began expostulations also, but the girl said, “Please don’t talk to me now.  By and by I will tell you what will touch all the woman in your heart.”

“I earnestly suggest,” added Dr. Borden, “that you take Miss Baron to her room, and that nothing more be said to disturb her.  She is overwrought and has reached the limit of endurance.”

The lady had the tact to acquiesce at once.  After reaching her room Miss Lou exclaimed, “But I have not been to young Waldo.”

“I have,” replied her aunt, “and will see him again more than once before I retire.  Louise, if you would not become a burden yourself at this time you must do as the doctor says.”

Within an hour the girl was sleeping and her nature regaining the strength and elasticity of youth.

As Whately stood fuming where his cousin had left him, Perkins approached for the first time since they had parted in anger the night before.

“I reck’n Miss Baron’s gone over ter the inemy,” remarked the overseer.