"Did we get in all right? Is Merle hurt?"
"No; only knocked up. You brought her in."
"I?" said Dick. There was a sorry little ghost of his old smile. "I didn't have any say in it. Conqueror bolted."
"Well, you went out for her, and you brought her back," the doctor said. "And now you mustn't talk any more. Go to sleep, if you can."
But sleep was gone for Dick. He lay in silence, with his eyes closed; so quietly that after a while his father gave way to entreaties and went off to find the rest he so badly needed. Twilight gave place to darkness, and only a shaded lamp lit the little room. The doctor moved in and out, presently coming to whisper that he was going for a walk. Mrs. Lester nodded, glad that he should have the opportunity. Silence brooded everywhere.
It was a little later that she saw that Dick's eyes were open. His fingers moved towards her, on the counterpane. She bent over him swiftly.
"What is it, my son? A drink?"
"No." The word came with difficulty. "If I—if I could hold your hand."
She put her hand in his, and felt hot fingers close round it tightly. So he lay, and then a stifled moan broke from him.
"Is the pain bad, Dick?"