"Listen!" she exclaimed. "Something stirred in here!"
"Fetch the lantern, Michael," commanded Mrs. Dunbar. "I do see the bushes moving."
He brought the light, and swung it into the thick hedge.
"Oh, Reda," cried Mary. "Reda, are you dead!" she screamed, throwing herself down by a huddled figure that lay ominously still in the deep, wet grass.
"Mary, wait," ordered Mrs. Dunbar kindly. "Here, Michael, give me the light so you can lift her. She may be just overcome."
But Mary was on her knees beside the old nurse, whose face, bared to the glare of the lantern, looked so death-like!
"Reda! Reda!" called Mary, pressing her young face down to the shriveled features. "Oh, speak to Mary. It is I, Maid Mary! See, I am with you."
But no sound came from the frozen lips, nor did the wrinkled hands answer Mary's warm grasp.
"She is likely stunned," said Mrs. Dunbar, encouragingly. "Michael, can you carry her?"
"Certainly I can," declared the stalwart man, and shouldering the inert burden, her arms brought over his strong chest, and her limbs fetched around under his own strong arms, he carried the unconscious woman up the steps into Cragsnook.