“He fell,” some one said.
“Just as he made his winning stroke,” added another.
“Oh!” and Viola herself reeled unsteadily.
“It's all right,” a voice said in her ear, and though it was in the ordinary tones of Captain Poland, to the alarmed girl it seemed as though it came from the distant peaks of the hills. “He'll be all right presently,” went on the captain, as he supported Viola and led her out of the throng.
“It's just a touch of the sun, I fancy. They've gone for a doctor.”
“Oh, but, Captain Poland—father was never like this before—he was always so strong and well—I never knew him to complain of the heat. And as for fainting—why I believe I almost did it myself, just now, didn't I?”
“Almost, yes.”
“But father never did. Oh, I must go to him!”
She struggled a little and moved away from his half encircling arm, for he had seen that her strength was failing her and had supported her as he led her away. “I must go to him!”
“Better not just now,” said Captain Poland gently. “Harry is there with him, the major and other friends. They will look after him. You had better come with me to the clubhouse and lie down. I will get you a cup of tea.”