about it, her withered face intent over the task.

The white arms fell upon the blue travelling-rug that Biddy had spread
with loving care outside the bed the night before to add to her
mistress's comfort. "When did he go, Biddy?" the low voice asked, and
there was a furtive quality in the question as if it were designed for
none but Biddy's ears. "Did he--did he leave no message?"

"Ah, to be sure!" said Biddy, turning her face for a moment. "And the
likes of me to have forgotten it! He sent ye his best love, darlint, and
ye were to eat a fine breakfast before ye went out."

The sad eyes smiled at her from the bed, half-gratified,
half-incredulous, like the eyes of a lonely child who listens to a
fairy-tale. "It was like him to think of that, Biddy. But--I wish he had
stayed a little longer. I must get up and go and find him."

"Hasn't he been with ye through the night?" asked Biddy, bent again to
her task.

"Nearly all night long!" The answer came on a note of triumph, yet there
was also a note of challenge in it also.

"Then what more would ye have?" said Biddy wisely. "Leave him alone for a
bit, darlint! Husbands are better without their wives sometimes."

A low laugh came from the bed. "Oh, Biddy, I must tell him that! He would
love your _bon-mots_. Did he--did he say when he would be back?"

"That he did not," said Biddy, still absorbed over the kettle. "But