Gordon Keith - Thomas Nelson Page

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She ran and told me. And, oh, I was so frightened! She was sure you were killed."

      "You might be sure she would be the first to hear and tell you," said the girl. "Why, mamma, one always sprains one's knee when one's horse falls. That is part of the programme. This--gentleman happened to come along, and helped me down to the road, and we were just discussing whether I should go on farther when you came up. Mother, this is Mr. Keith."

      Keith bowed. He was for some reason pleased that she did not say anything of the way in which he had brought her down the Ridge.

      Mrs. Yorke turned and thanked him with graciousness, possibly with a little condescension. He was conscious that she gave him a sweeping glance, and was sorry his shoes were so old. But Mrs. Yorke took no further notice of him.

      "Oh, what will your father say! You know he wanted us to go to California; but you would come South. After Mr. Wickersham told you of his place, nothing else would satisfy you."

      "Oh, papa! You know I can settle him," said the girl.

      Mrs. Yorke began to lament the wretchedness of a region where there was no doctor of reputation.

      "There is a very fine surgeon in the village. Dr. Balsam is one of the best surgeons anywhere," said Keith.

      "Oh, I know that old man. No doubt, he is good enough for little common ailments," said Mrs. Yorke, "but in a case like this! What does he know about surgery?" She turned back to her daughter. "I shall telegraph your father to send Dr. Pilbury down at once."

      Keith flushed at her manner.

      "A good many people have to trust their lives to him," he said coldly. "And he has had about as much surgical practice as most men. He was in the army."

      The girl began again to belittle her injury.

      It was nothing, absolutely nothing, she declared.

      "And besides," she said, "I know the Doctor. I met him the other day. He is a dear old man." She ended by addressing Keith.

      "One of the best," said Keith, warmly.

      "Well, we must get you into the vehicle and take you home immediately," said her mother. "Can you help put my daughter into the carriage?" Mrs. Yorke looked at the driver, a stolid colored man, who was surly over having had to drive his horses so hard.

      Before the man could answer, Gordon stepped forward, and, stooping, lifted the girl, and quietly put her up into the vehicle. She simply smiled and said, "Thank you," quite as if she were accustomed to being lifted into carriages by strange young men whom she had just met on the roadside.

      Mrs. Yorke's eyes opened wide.

      "How strong you must be!" she exclaimed, with a woman's admiration for physical strength.

      Keith bowed, and, with a flush mounting to his cheeks, backed a little away.

      "Oh, he has often lifted sacks of salt," said the girl, half turning her eyes on Keith with a gleam of satisfaction in them.

      Mrs. Yorke looked at her in astonishment.

      "Why, Alice!" she exclaimed reprovingly under her breath.

      "He told me so himself," asserted the girl, defiantly.

      "I may have to do so again," said Keith, dryly.

      Mrs. Yorke's hand went toward the region of her pocket, but uncertainly; for she was not quite sure what he was. His face and air belied his shabby dress. A closer look than she had given him caused her to stop with a start.

      "Mr.--ah--?" After trying to recall the name, she gave it up. "I am very much obliged to you for your kindness to my daughter," she began. "I do not know how I can compensate you; but if you will come to the hotel sometime to-morrow--any time--perhaps, there is something--? Can you come to the hotel to-morrow?" Her tone was condescending.

      "Thank you," said Keith, quietly. "I am afraid I cannot go to the village to-morrow. I have already been more than compensated in being able to render a service to a lady. I have a school, and I make it a rule never to go anywhere except Friday evening or Saturday." He lifted his hat and backed away.

      As they drove away the girl said, "Thank you" and "Good-by," very sweetly.

      "Who is he, Alice? What is he?" asked her mother.

      "I don't know. Mr. Keith. He is a gentleman."

      As Gordon stood by the roadside and saw the carriage disappear in a haze of dust, he was oppressed with a curious sense of loneliness. The isolation of his position seemed to strike him all on a sudden. That stout, full-voiced woman, with her rich clothes, had interposed between him and the rest of his kind. She had treated him condescendingly. He would show her some day who he was. But her daughter! He went off into a revery.

      He turned, and made his way slowly and musingly in the direction of his home.

      A new force had suddenly come into his life, a new land had opened before him. One young girl had effected it. His school suddenly became a prison. His field was the world.

      As he passed along, scarcely conscious of where he was, he met the very man of all others he would rather have met--Dr. Balsam. He instantly informed the Doctor of the accident, and suggested that he had better hurry on to the Springs.

      "A pretty girl, with blue eyes and brown hair?" inquired the Doctor.

      "Yes." The color stole into Gordon's cheeks.

      "With a silly woman for a mother, who is always talking about her heart and pats you on the back?"

      "I don't know. Yes, I think so."

      "I know her. Is the limb broken?" he asked with interest.

      "No, I do not think it is; but badly sprained. She fainted from the pain, I think."

      "You say it occurred up on the Ridge?"

      "Yes, near the big pines--at the summit."

      "Why, how did she get down? There is no road." He was gazing up at the pine-clad spur above them.

      "I helped her down." A little color flushed into his face.

      "Ah! You supported her? She can walk on it?"

      "Ur--no. I brought her down. I had to bring her. She could not walk--not a step."

      "Oh! ah! I see. I'll hurry on and see how she is."

      As he rode off he gave a grunt.

      "Humph!" It might have meant any one of several things. Perhaps, what it did mean was that "Youth is the same the world over, and here is a chance for this boy to make a fool of himself and he will probably do it, as I did." As the Doctor jogged on over the rocky road, his brow was knit in deep reflection; but his thoughts were far away among other pines on the Piscataqua. That boy's face had turned the dial back nearly forty years.

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      When Mrs. Yorke arrived at the hotel, Dr. Balsam was nowhere to be found. She was just sending off a messenger to despatch a telegram to the nearest city for a surgeon, when she saw the Doctor coming up the hill toward the hotel at a rapid pace.

      He tied his horse, and, with his saddle-pockets over his arm, came striding up the walk. There was something reassuring in the quick, firm step with which he came toward her. She had not given him credit for so much energy.

      Mrs. Yorke led the way toward her rooms, giving a somewhat highly colored description

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