"Yes."
"Anything wrong?"
"No, I'm just here with John," she said and went close to the cart. "And George is waiting for you."
"He'd better hop up, then." He bent towards her. "Did you find the fires?"
She nodded with the vehemence of her gladness that he should remember. "And," she whispered hurriedly, "you were quite right about the doors. Uncle Alfred's going to be a friend."
"That's good. Hullo, Halkett. Get up, will you, and we'll go on. Where's John?"
"Sitting on the bank."
The cart shook under Halkett's added weight, and as he took his seat he bulked enormous in the darkness. Dwarfed by that nearness, the doctor sat with his hat in one hand and gathered the reins up with the other.
"No, just a minute!" Helen cried. "I want to stroke the horse." Her voice had laughter in it.
"There's a patient waiting for me, you know."