The gate clashed open again just as Janice's weakened grasp slipped from Mrs. Scattergood's arm and she staggered away from the excited, panting old woman. The girl would have fallen, save that the young man who rushed in at the gate, having seen the danger in season, caught her in his arms.
The girl's eyelids fluttered; her lips remained open; the pallor of her face was terrifying.
"What's happened?" demanded the newcomer. "What have you done to her, Mrs. Scattergood?"
"Me? I ain't done nothing—not a thing!" denied the woman shrilly.
"You said something to her, then?"
"Wal! What if I did? She'd oughter hev been told before."
"You told her?"
"Daddy! Oh, Daddy!" moaned Janice.
"You mind your own business, Frank Bowman! You're one o' them foolish folk, too, that's allus tryin' ter hide the trewth 'cause it's bitter. Sure 'tis bitter; 'twas meant ter be. An' these namby-pamby people in this world that can't stand the trewth to be told to 'em——"
Mrs. Scattergood overlooked the plain fact that the reason she had lost her temper and told this secret to Janice Day was because the girl had told her a few truths. But Frank Bowman was not listening to the old woman's tirade. Janice had not lost consciousness. Only for a moment did she sag helplessly on the young civil engineer's arm.