"Who is it?" was Barby's immediate question.
"Aunt Lucy's daughter."
"She don't look much like her!" said Barby, intelligently.
"They will want something to eat, Barby."
"I'll put the kettle on. It'll boil directly. I'll go in there and fix up the fire."
A word or two more, and then Fleda ran up to speak to her aunt and Hugh.
Her aunt she found in a state of agitation that was frightful. Even Fleda's assurances, with all the soothing arts she could bring to bear, were some minutes before they could in any measure tranquillize her. Fleda's own nerves were in no condition to stand another shock, when she left her and went to Hugh's door. But she could get no answer from him, though she spoke repeatedly.
She did not return to her aunt's room. She went down stairs, and brought up Barby and a light from thence.
Hugh was lying senseless and white not whiter than his adopted sister, as she stood by his side. Her eye went to her companion.
"Not a bit of it!" said Barby, "he's in nothing but a faint just run down stairs and get the vinegar-bottle, Fleda the pepper vinegar. Is there any water here?"