"There is Love, sitting crouched in the corner of the garden plot, his head on his knees, poor little Love!"
Constance broke into a run and knelt beside the little boy, who did not look up as she put her arms around him.
"Love, Love, dear child, if you can tell me what Damaris ate perhaps God will help me cure her," she said. "Look up, and be brave and help me. Did you see Damaris eat anything that you did not eat with her?"
"Little things that grow around the big tree where it is wetter, we picked for our furniture," Love said at once. "Damaris said you cooked them and they were good. So then she said we would play some of them was furniture, and some of them was our dinner. And I didn't eat them, for they were like thin leather, only soft, and I felt of them, and couldn't eat them. But Damaris did eat them."
"Toadstools!" cried Constance with a gasp. "Toadstools, Love! Did they look like little tables? And did Damaris call them mushrooms?"
"Yes, like little tables," Love nodded his head hard. "All full underneath with soft crimped——"
But Constance waited for no more. With a cry she was on her feet and running like the wind, calling back over her shoulder to Giles:
"I'll come quick! I know! I know! Tell Father I know!"
"She hath gone to Doctor Fuller's house," said Priscilla, watching Constance's flying figure, her hair unbound and streaming like a burnished banner behind her as she ran to get her weapon to fight with Death. "No girl ever ran as she can. Come, Giles; obey her. Tell your father and Mistress Hopkins that mayhap Constance can save the child."
They turned toward the house, and Constance sped on.