She took Hero down into the kitchen, bathed the injured paw in warm water, and gave him a plateful of scraps: after which Hero went upstairs again, lay outside the bedroom door, and slipped in on the first opportunity. He no longer proved unmanageable, however; and for Jessie, though for no one else, he consented at night to go downstairs and to be shut into the little scullery, with a mat to sleep on.
"But I'm sure, if I'd known it meant having that brute too, I'd never have offered to take her in," sighed Miss Perkins. "I've always said I wouldn't have a dog in the house, not for nobody; and I've meant it, too."
"And I love dogs!" was all the expression of sympathy she could obtain from Jessie.
When the dripping clothes of the half-drowned woman were dried and examined, a small Church Prayer-Book was found in the pocket of the dress, so tightly clasped that, though greatly damaged, it was still possible to make out part of a written inscription: "For Mildred; from her brother, Phil P—," the remainder being illegible. Her clothes were marked with the initials "M. S. P."
So "Mildred" was the name by which she became known during the next ten days. Fever ran somewhat high, though not to a dangerous extent and she wandered dreamily. Sometimes she would call, "Hero!" suddenly, in a clear voice, and the instant response of the dog, starting to her side showed this to be his name. She was always soothed by his touch; and if he were long absent from the room, her restlessness increased. Other names often on her lips were "Phil," "Louey," and "Lou;" and sometimes she would vaguely ask, "Were they saved?" It was never needful to answer her.
Not till fully ten days had passed since the wreck, did Mildred Pattison steal from the shadowy land of dreams back to the everyday world of clear consciousness. Even then she was at first too weak for connected thought; but gradually, as strength returned, recollection came, and past and present began to take definite shape.
It fell upon the young and inexperienced Jessie to break to her how matters were. Everybody had dreaded having to do this, and hoped that it might fall to the lot of some one else. And, after all, it so happened that Jessie was alone in the room when Millie for the first time looked with steady and questioning eyes and whispered,—"Tell me, please!"
Jessie was aware of a shock of alarm. "You mustn't talk yet," she said. "Aunt Barbara will be back directly."
"Who is aunt Barbara?"
"My aunt, Miss Barbara Perkins. This is our house, you know."