“Be the doctah dade, maw?” he asked, in an awed whisper.

“No, child, no. You fetch a leetle light ud an’ chips, an’ we’ll make her some coffee. Sister’s that tired, pore child! Have ye been up all night, Cass?”

She nodded her head and still sobbed on.

“He’s gettin’ on all right now, be he?”

Again she nodded, but did not take her hands from her face.

“Then you’d ought to be glad. Hit ain’t like Frale had of killed him. Farwell, he had many a time sech as that with one an’ another, an’ he nevah come to no harm f’om hit. I reckon Frale’ll be safe. Be ye cryin’ fer him, Cass? Pore child! I nevah did think you keered fer Frale that-a-way.”