"Oh, well," sighed Beth as she laid the mirror down beside her. "I guess I ought to be glad I'm alive after——"
And then with an uncontrollable shudder, she asked, "And—and—him?"
"Dead," said Aunt Tillie with unction. "Burned to a crisp."
Beth gasped but said nothing more. She didn't want to think of yesterday, but she couldn't help it—the horrors that she had passed through—the fate that might have been in store for her, if—Peter hadn't found her in time!
Beth relaxed in comfort while Aunt Tillie bathed and anointed her, brushed out the hair that was "frizzled," refreshing and restoring her patient, so that after lunch she got up and put on the clothing that had been brought from her home. Her arms were swathed in bandages from wrists to shoulders but the pain was much less, so, when McGuire knocked at the door and asked if he might see her, she was sitting in a chair by the window and greeted him with a smile.
He entered timidly and awkwardly, rubbing his fingers uncomfortably against the palms of his hands.
"They tell me you're feelin' better, Miss Cameron," he said soberly. "I—I'd like to talk to you for a moment," and with a glance at Aunt Tillie, "alone if you don't mind."
Aunt Tillie gathered up some bandages and grudgingly departed.
McGuire came forward slowly and sank into a chair beside Beth's, laying his hand timidly on hers.
"I thank God nothing happened to you, child, and I hope you believe me when I say it," he began in an uncertain voice.