wait here. Very well, she would wait here. She would not get
Martin any lunch, and when he raged she would explain.

She finished her packing and put the house in order. Then, in
unaccustomed mid-morning leisure, she sank into a deep rocker, and
began to read. Quiet and shade and order reigned in the little
house. Outside in the shaded street the children went shouting
home again; a fishman's horn sounded.

Steps came bounding up to Cherry's door; her heart began to beat;
a knock sounded. She got to her feet, puzzled; Martin did not
knock.

It was Joe Robinson, his closest friend at the mine. His handsome,
big-featured face was full of concern.

"Say, listen, Mrs. Lloyd; Mart can't get home to dinner," said
Joe. "He don't feel extra well--he was in the engine room and he
kinder--he kinder--"

"Fainted?" Cherry asked, sharply, turning a little pale.

"Well, kinder. Lawson made him lay down," Joe said. "And he's
coming home when the wagon comes down, at three o'clock. He says
to tell you he's fine!"

"Oh, thank you, Joe!" Cherry said. She shut the door, feeling weak
and frightened. She flew to unpack her bag, hung up her hat and
coat, darkened the bedroom and turned down the bed; waited
anxiously for Mart's return. Mrs. Turner came in with the baby, a