“Yes, yes, to be sure; we don’t want all those men to know what has happened. Your father will be out in a few minutes for some more ale, and then we can tell him,” said Mrs. Shelley, helping Jack to carry Charlie to the house.
Again Mrs. Shelley was thinking of her eldest boy. If, indeed, Charlie were killed, she knew it would be a terrible thing for Jack, and in any case she did not want all this shearing company to know what had happened, and gossip about it.
As she and Jack carried Charlie to the house, Fairy followed, trembling, and wondering what Mrs. Shelley’s cruel words meant. Why was it her fault? What had she done? When had she wilfully stirred up strife between the boys? And where was she to go out of Mrs. Shelley’s sight? Was she to be turned out of the house because poor Charlie was dangerously hurt? Frightened and grieved for Charlie and Jack, cut to the quick by Mrs. Shelley’s words, Fairy threw herself on the bench outside the door, and burst into tears.
A minute or two later, John Shelley, coming out of the tent to fetch some more beer from the house, saw the unwonted sight of Fairy crying as if her heart would break.
“Fairy! Why, my pet, what is it? Crying at my White Ram. What is the matter?” he asked, laying his hand on the bowed golden head.
“Oh John, John!” sobbed Fairy, clinging to him, “poor Charlie is dreadfully hurt; it was partly an accident and partly Jack hit him, and he fell, and he is insensible. Go in and see. I mustn’t come.”
John had not time to stop and ask why Fairy must not come, but went in to the little sitting-room, where Jack and Mrs. Shelley were applying restoratives to the still insensible Charlie.
“What is this?” said the shepherd, glancing sternly from the prostrate Charlie to Jack, who dared not meet his father’s glance.
“Hush, John! it is a terrible business—listen.” And in a few words Mrs. Shelley, who had heard from Jack exactly how it occurred, told her husband the story, and what prompted the unfortunate blow.
“Poor boys, poor boys! Jack, Jack, what were you thinking of?” cried John Shelley, stooping over Charlie to try and see where he was hurt.