The man had caught up a stick. He struck sharply with it, as he passed, at the tall nettles growing in the ditch.
What was happening at home all this time? I began to walk faster, with a great misery at my heart. What was the good of this man who wasn't a general practitioner? He was too like all the other broad-shouldered young golfers in Norfolk jackets—far too like them, to help in so dire a need as ours.
I tried to hearten myself by recalling what Lord Helmstone had said of him. That "the bigwigs in the world of science spoke of Annan with enthusiasm." "An original mind." "A demon for work" (that was, perhaps, why he hadn't wanted to come with me). Odds and ends came back. "Annan would go far." He had gone too far in the direction of overwork. He had been urged to come down here and play golf. Still, he worked long hours....
And while I recalled these things, in the back of my head, I kept repeating: "Mother, mother! I am bringing help."
We did not talk, except for my turning suddenly to warn him that my younger sister was not to know if my mother——
"Yes, yes!" he said. I felt he understood. I walked faster—almost at a run. He did not seem to notice. His long strides kept him near me without an effort.
Mother, mother!——
Oh, how wildly the birds were singing! She had said that only we ever noticed the special quality in the vesper song. Something the morning never heard. The air was filled with a passion of that belated singing. "Good-night," I heard her say, "is better than good-morning."
Oh, mother! if that is so for you, think of your children.
Did the stranger object to jumping ditches and climbing stiles?