"My dear boy," cried she, "that is exactly what we want you to tell us!"
"What! Don't you know?" he asked, with a sudden access of astonishment.
"Nothing! Nobody knows anything except that you were found by the roadside, all in fragments. Ah! I can laugh now. But oh, Osmond! when they telegraphed to me first!"
She leaned over him, and kissed his forehead.
"My dear boy," she said, "I could eat you."
He caught his breath with a weary sigh.
"What's become of Hilda and Jac?" he asked.
"Oh! they are all right—gone to the Hamertons at Ryde, and having a delightful holiday. Don't fret," she said, answering fast, and with an evident anxiety at the turn his inquiries were taking. But he would go on.
"And how long have I been lying here?" he asked, grimly. "I suppose there are some good long bills running up, eh? Doctors not the least among them." A pair of very distinct furrows were visible on his forehead.
"And that commission of Orton's," he sighed out.