Hardly comprehending, too much taken by surprise even to wonder what he could want, she hastily complied.
"She ought to be prepared, you know," he went on in the same breathless, agitated manner, drawing her further away from the door as he spoke; "he's awfully hurt, a'most killed, I believe, and they're bringin' him up the street now."
"Who?" gasped Mildred.
"Her son Gote; gun went off while he was ramming in the wadding and shot the ramrod right through his hands; I guess they'll both have to come off."
Mildred staggered back, sick and faint, and with a dazed sort of feeling that she was somehow to blame.
"They're comin'," repeated the man hurriedly, pointing to a little crowd of men and boys moving slowly up the street, scarcely a square away, "can't you say something to her! kind o' break the shock a little, you know."
Mrs. Lightcap had stepped into the door way and was looking this way and that, curious to learn the cause of Mildred's sudden exit.
"Why, Jim Foote, is that you?" she exclaimed. "What on airth are you a wantin' with Miss Keith?" then catching sight of the approaching crowd, "What's goin' on?" she asked, "anything the matter?"
Mildred sprang to her side, and fairly pushing her back into the house, threw her arms about her sobbing, "Oh, I'm so sorry for you! so sorry! Don't look! not yet. He—he's living but—"
"Who? who's a livin'? who's hurt? Girl, tell me quick! 'Tain't none o' mine, sure? 'Taint my old man? Oh, what'll I do? what'll I do?"