scene for her--the great car crashing upon him, the overthrow of his
cart, the scattered fruit on the ground, and the Greek boy crawling
toward it--thrust forward as the car pushed by--and his swift, upward
glance of the girl's face as it flashed past, and of the men holding her
between them--"She cry," he said--as if he saw the vision again before
him. "She cry--and they stop--hands." He placed both hands across his
mouth, shutting out words and cry.

And the mother fondled him and cried to him and questioned him again.
_She_ had no fear--no knowledge of what might hang in the balance--of
the delicate grey matter that trembled at her strokes... no surgeon
would have dared question so sternly, so unsparingly. But the delicate
brain held itself steady and the boy's eyes were turned to her--piecing
her broken words, answering them before they came--as if she drew them
forth at will--

The door opened and she looked up and sprang forward. "Listen, Phil.
He saw Betty!" Her hand trembled to the boy. "He _saw_ her--_that last
day_--it must be--tell him, Alcie--"

The boy was looking at him smiling quietly, and nodding to him.

Philip Harris closed the door with set face.




XXII

"WHAT DID YOU SEE?"