The morning “chores” were done, breakfast was out of the way, and Sophy was discussing with Pam what was the most necessary bit of work for them to start that morning, when the Doctor rode up, and they both ran out to greet him. The dog growled languidly. There had been so many people at Ripple in the last two days that the creature plainly felt it was too much fag to growl at everyone and so was indifferent about the business, although when an arrival was a once-a-week or once-a-fortnight event it had been ready to tear the new-comer to pieces.
“How is Mr. Buckle?” demanded Pam, giving Sophy no time to do the asking, but shouting the question as she ran.
“He died at midnight,” replied the Doctor briefly, and Pam flung up her hands in horror and consternation at the news. Of course she knew yesterday that the poor man was very ill, but she had never thought that he was going to die. Oh, it was too dreadful! Suppose her grandfather really had hurt him, then the poor old man would not be able to come home now, but would have to be a wanderer always, hiding from the punishment which would await him if he were found.
“Father, you should not have told her so suddenly!” cried Sophy with acute reproach in her tone as Pam turned and clung to her.
“So it seems,” replied the Doctor, as he slid from his horse and came to help in the restoration of Pam. “But there are some things that do not improve by keeping, and this is one of them. Miss Walsh, you have need of every atom of courage you possess. I think you are made of good stuff, and you have got to rise to the occasion somehow.”
“I will if I can!” whispered Pam, but she was white to the lips, and there was such dismay in her heart that she was ready to sink with the pain of it all.
“It is all very well to tell her to be brave, but think of the shock for the poor girl! Why, I feel downright bad myself, and I am only an outsider. Poor Pam! Whatever will become of her? Will she have to turn round and go back to England?” Sophy was firing out a stream of questions, for she was tremendously excited. Nothing like this had ever come her way before, and she was a little thrown off her balance by it.
“I can’t go back to England, I have not money enough, and Mother cannot afford to send me any either,” said Pam, recovering herself a little. Then drawing away from Sophy she stood erect, though she was still white and trembling. “I shall stay here and make the best of it!” she declared.
“That is right!” The Doctor’s voice had such a ring of approval in it that Pam began at once to feel better. “Nothing is proved against Mr. Peveril, of course,” the Doctor went on. “He might not even have been suspected of having hurt Sam Buckle but for his unaccountable absence. As it is, people are disposed to think the very worst of him, and yet he may be as innocent as you or I.”
“I believe he is. I cannot think that he would hurt anyone,” murmured Pam, and the Doctor shook his head, but whether in agreement or dissent did not appear.