"Now don't be frightened, my dear, but I have something to tell you which I think you ought to know. Our dear little Judy fainted in a rather alarming way in church yesterday. Of course we sent for the doctor, and he says she is very weak, and must stay in bed for a day or two. He says we need not be alarmed, but that her strength is a good deal run down, and that she must have been fretting about something. It just shows how little doctors know, for I never saw the child sweeter, or more gentle, or more easily amused. You know what a troublesome little creature she used to be, always flashing about and upsetting things, and bringing all kinds of obnoxious insects into the house; but she has been just like a lamb since your wedding, sitting contentedly by my side, looking over her fairy story-books, and assuring me she wasn't fretting in the least about you, and that she was perfectly happy. Babs did say that she heard her crying now and then at night, but I fancy the child must have been mistaken, for Judy certainly would not conceal any trouble from me. I will write to you again about her to-morrow. She directed this envelope to you herself yesterday morning before church, so I am slipping my letter into it. Don't be frightened, dear, we are taking all possible care of her.
"Your affectionate
"Aunt Marjorie."
"There," said Hilda, looking up with a queer, terrified expression in her eyes, "I knew how it would be. I married Jasper to please myself, and I have killed Judy. Judy's heart is broken. Oh, what shall I do, Milly, what shall I do?"
"Let me read Aunt Marjorie's letter," said Mildred.
Her quick, practical eyes glanced rapidly over the old lady's illegible writing.
"I don't think you have killed her, Hilda," said Miss Anstruther then, "but she is simply fading away for want of the love which was her life. Go back to her; go back at once, and she will revive. Come, there is not a moment to be lost. I'll run out and send a telegram to Little Staunton. I'll tell them to expect you this evening. Where's an A B C? Have you got one?"
"I think there is one on the wagon in the dining room. I'll fetch it."
Hilda ran out of the room; she brought back the time-table in a moment. Her face was white; her hands shook so that she could scarcely turn the leaves.
"Let me find the place," said Mildred. "There, let me see. Oh, what a pity, you have lost the four o'clock train, and there isn't another until seven. Never mind, say you will take that one. You'll arrive at Bickley at twenty minutes to ten, and soon after ten you'll be at the Rectory. I'll run at once and send off the telegram, for the sooner Judy's heart is relieved the better."