"Yes! Barry must know at last, and Katie, and every one," said Dido, tearing up the scrap of paper with a sigh; "but to-day he is as sane as I am, and as busy as possible over the apparatus, he may not have another attack for a long time. Let us put it out of our heads. Don't think of it, we will talk of something else. I must send word to Darby this evening about Daisy; twenty pounds is the least——"
"Dido, Dido!" cried her sister, bursting into the room, "come down this moment; Sally has fallen over the step in the dairy and sprained her ankle, she is lying groaning on the settle in the kitchen, and she won't be able to stir to-morrow?"
"Oh, of course!" exclaimed Dido, starting up. "Do misfortunes ever come alone?"
Half an hour later, the three girls were standing together looking blankly at their preparation for the morrow's market. There lay golden butter, cream-cheeses, pounds of honey, bouquets of flowers, and last, but not least, their precious stock of grapes—grapes nursed through the winter, in a windy old vinery, with a tenderness they had but ill repaid.
"Is Sally's ankle very painful?" inquired Helen after a long pause.
"Yes; I've bathed it with arnica, but she won't be able to put her foot to the ground for a week."
"Could Andy go?"
"Andy, my dear girl, wouldn't set foot in Terryscreen to save his life; he was in jail there! It's just our luck, the best cart of the season! I'd take it myself, only I would be known. There would be no real disgrace in doing it—it's ten times more shameful to owe money."
"There's nothing for it but to put away what will keep, and to use the rest ourselves," said Katie, the ever practical.
After a moment's silence, Helen said suddenly, "Look here, Dido, why should not I take the cart?"