She smiled at him, and put her face on his, but she did not stir. Suddenly the nurse saw Mr. Linton, and beckoned to him.
“Carry her—she can’t move.”
Norah felt her father’s arm about her.
“Hold round my neck, dear,” he said.
The nurse was at her other side. They raised her slowly, while she clenched her teeth to keep back any sound that should tell of the agony of moving—still smiling with her eyes on Geoffrey’s sleepy face. Then, suddenly, she grew limp in her father’s arm.
“Fainted,” murmured the nurse. “And a very good thing.” She put her arm round her, and they carried her out between them, and put her on a sofa.
“I must go back to Geoffrey,” the nurse said. “Rub her—rub her knees hard, before she comes to. It’s going to hurt her, poor child!” She hurried away.
Geoffrey was lying quietly, his mother’s head close to him. The nurse put her hand on his brow.
“Nice and cool,” she said. “You’re a very good boy, Geoff; we’ll think about some breakfast for you presently.” Mrs. Hunt raised her white face, and the nurse’s professional calmness wavered a little. She patted her shoulder.
“There—there, my dear!” she said. “He’s going to do very well. Don’t you worry. He’ll be teaching me to ride that pony before we know where we are.” She busied herself about the boy with deft touches. “Now just keep very quiet—put Mother to sleep, if you like, for she’s a tired old mother.” She hastened back to Norah.