must awake in a moment to the full realization of their dreadful
need of just such a godsend as this.

It was her father's voice that roused the girl. He had not seen
the letter and Momsey had read it silently to herself.

"Look out, Nancy! What is the matter with your mother?"

With a cry the girl caught the frail little lady in her arms as
the letter slipped unheeded from her lap to the floor. Mrs.
Sherwood's eyes were closed. She had fainted.

Chapter VI
A SPRAT FOR A HERRING

"I don't need the doctor this time, honey; joy never killed yet."

So said Mrs. Sherwood, opening her eyes to see the scared face of
Nan close above her. Then she saw her husband at her feet,
quietly chafing her hands in his own hard, warm palms. She
pulled hers gently from his clasp and rested them upon his head.
Mr. Sherwood's hair was iron-gray, thick, and inclined to curl.
She ran her little fingers into it and clung tightly.

"Let, let me get my breath!" she gasped. Then, after a moment
she smiled brilliantly into the wind-bitten face of the kneeling
man. "It's all over, Robert," she said.

"My dear!" he cried thickly; while Nan could not wholly stifle
the cry of fear that rose to her lips.