"Oauch, the poor wee b'y!" sobbed Morton under her breath, her blue eyes
drenched with tears that made them like blue lakes. "He's like to my own
wee b'y that I lost when he was a baby," she explained in apology to the
trained nurse who was not, however, regarding her in the least.

Norah had vanished frightened to consult with Thomas. It was Morton who
brought the things the doctor called for, and showed the nurse where to put
her belongings; and after everything was done and the boy made comfortable
and brought back to consciousness, it was she who stood at the foot of the
bed and smiled upon him first in this new world to which he opened his
eyes.

His eyes were blue, heavenly blue and dark, but they were great with a
brave fear as he glanced about on the strange faces. He looked like a wild
bird, caught in a kindly hand,--a bird whose instincts held him still
because he saw no way of flight, but whose heart was beating frightfully
against his captor's fingers. He looked from side to side of the room, and
made a motion to rise from the pillow. It was a wild, furtive motion, as of
one who has often been obliged to fly for safety, yet still has unlimited
courage. There was also in his glance the gentle harmlessness and appeal of
the winged thing that has been caught.

"Well, youngster, you had a pretty close shave," said the doctor jovially,
"but you'll pull through all right! You feel comfortable now?"

The nurse was professionally quiet.

"Poor wee b'y!" murmured Morton, her eyes drenched again.

The boy looked from one to another doubtfully. Suddenly remembrance dawned