"But when did you get out of bed?" continued Peter. He was less
anxious now.
Jack looked at Ruth and again lowered his voice; the sound of the
carriage preventing its hoarse notes from reaching her ears.
"About half an hour ago, sir; they don't know I have gone, but I
didn't want anybody to frighten Miss Ruth. I don't look so bad, do
I? I fixed myself up as well as I could. I have got on Bolton's
hat; I couldn't get mine over the bandages. My wrist is the worst
--sprained badly, the doctor says."
If Ruth heard she made no answer, nor did she speak during the
ride. Now and then she would gaze out of the window and once her
fingers tightened on Miss Felicia's arm as she passed in full view
of the "fill" with the gaping mouth of the tunnel beyond. Miss
Felicia was occupied in watching Jack. In fact, she had not taken
her eyes from him since they entered the carriage. She saw what
neither Peter nor Ruth had seen;--that the boy was suffering
intensely from hidden wounds and that the strain was so great he
was verging on a collapse.
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