"Is that so?" and he suddenly sat up in the bed.
"Careful, careful," she cried, excitedly, pushing him gently back upon the pillow. He was silent as if in deep thought, while she waited eagerly. Presently she said in a low voice:
"Do you feel hurt badly, Jean?"
"I don't know." He raised his hand to his head as if trying to think more clearly. She caught his hands and held them as if trying to estimate his pulse, to see if he had any fever.
"How did you come to get kicked, Jean?" she asked, speaking in the same low tone.
"I don't know. When I opened the barn door I had a vision of one of the horses moving and I knew no more."
"You must be very careful and not start the bleeding again," she advised. "You bled considerably."
"And you say I am at your house. At where I board?"
"Yes, Jean."
He turned and stared at her, and for the first time seemed to be himself. He closed his eyes a moment as if to shut out something he did not wish to see.