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〃Mr。 Insall！〃
But his swift glance had noticed the expression in her eyes； the sagged
condition of her clothes； the attitude that proclaimed exhaustion。 He
took her by the arm and led her to the little storeroom； turning on the
light and placing her in a chair。 Darkness descended on her。。。。
Mrs。 Maturin； returning from an errand； paused for an instant in the
doorway； and ran forward and bent over Janet。
〃Oh； Brooks； what is itwhat's happened to her？〃
〃I don't know；〃 he replied； 〃I didn't have a chance to ask her。 I'm
going for a doctor。〃
〃Leave her to me； and call Miss Hay。〃 Mrs。 Maturin was instantly
competen 。。。。 And when Insall came back from the drug store where he had
telephoned she met him at the head of the stairs。 〃We've done everything
we can； Edith Hay has given her brandy； and gone off for dry clothes； and
we've taken all the children's things out of the drawers and laid her on
the floor； but she hasn't come to。 Poor child；what can have happened
to her？ Is the doctor coming？〃
〃Right away；〃 said Insall； and Mrs。 Maturin went back into the storeroom。
Miss Hay brought the dry clothes before the physician arrived。
〃It's probably pneumonia；〃 he explained to Insall a little later。 〃She
must go to the hospitalbut the trouble is all our hospitals are pretty
full； owing to the sickness caused by the strike。〃 He hesitated。 〃Of
course； if she has friends； she could have better care in a private
institution just now。〃
〃Oh； she has friends；〃 said Mrs。 Maturin。 〃Couldn't we take her to our
little hospital at Silliston； doctor？ It's only four milesthat isn't
much in an automobile； and the roads are good now。〃
〃Well； the risk isn't much greater； if you have a closed car； and she
would； of course； be better looked after；〃 the physician consented。
〃I'll see to it at once；〃 said Insall。。。。
CHAPTER XX
The Martha Wootton Memorial Hospital was the hobby of an angel alumnus of
Silliston。 It was situated in Hovey's Lane； but from the window of the
white…enameled room in which she lay Janet could see the bare branches of
the Common elms quivering to the spring gusts； could watch； day by day；
the grass changing from yellow…brown to vivid green in the white
sunlight。 In the morning； when the nurse opened the blinds； that
sunlight swept radiantly into the room； lavish with its caresses； always
spending； always giving； the symbol of a loving care that had been poured
out on her； unasked and unsought。 It was sweet to rest； to sleep。 And
instead of the stringent monster…cry of the siren； of the discordant
clamour of the mill bells； it was sweet yet strange to be awakened by
silvertoned chimes proclaiming peaceful hours。 At first she surrendered
to the spell； and had no thought of the future。 For a little while every
day； Mrs。 Maturin read aloud； usually from books of poetry。 And knowing
many of the verses by heart； she would watch Janet's face； framed in the
soft dark hair that fell in two long plaits over her shoulders。 For
Janet little guessed the thought that went into the choosing of these
books； nor could she know of the hours spent by this lady pondering over
library shelves or consulting eagerly with Brooks Insall。 Sometimes
Augusta Maturin thought of Janet as a wildflowerone of the rare； shy
ones； hiding under its leaves； sprung up in Hampton； of all places；
crushed by a heedless foot； yet miraculously not destroyed； and already
pushing forth new and eager tendrils。 And she had transplanted it。 To
find the proper nourishment； to give it a chance to grow in a native；
congenial soil； such was her breathless task。 And so she had selected
〃The Child's Garden of Verses。〃
〃I should like to rise and go
Where the golden apples grow〃。。。
When she laid down her book it was to talk； perhaps； of Silliston。
Established here before the birth of the Republic； its roots were bedded
in the soil of a racial empire； to a larger vision of which Augusta
Maturin clung： an empire of Anglo…Saxon tradition which； despite
disagreements and conflictsnay； through themdeveloped imperceptibly
toward a sublimer union； founded not on dominion； but on justice and
right。 She spoke of the England she had visited on her wedding journey；
of the landmarks and literature that also through generations have been
American birthrights； and of that righteous self…assertion and
independence which； by protest and even by war； America had contributed
to the democracy of the future。 Silliston； indifferent to cults and
cataclysms； undisturbed by the dark tides flung westward to gather in
deposits in other parts of the land； had held fast to the old tradition；
stood ready to do her share to transform it into something even nobler
when the time should come。 Simplicity and worth and beautythese
elements at least of the older Republic should not perish； but in the end
prevail。
She spoke simply of these things； connecting them with a Silliston whose
spirit appealed to all that was inherent and abiding in the girl。 All
was not chaos： here at least； a beacon burned with a bright and steady
flame。 And she spoke of Andrew Silliston； the sturdy colonial prototype
of the American culture； who had fought against his King； who had spent
his modest fortune to found this seat of learning； believing as he did
that education is the cornerstone of republics； divining that lasting
unity is possible alone by the transformation of the individual into the
citizen through voluntary bestowal of service and the fruits of labour。
Samuel Wootton； the Boston merchant who had given the hospital； was
Andrew's true descendant； imbued with the same half…conscious intuition
that builds even better that it reeks。 And Andrew； could he have returns
to earth in his laced coat and long silk waistcoat； would still recognize
his own soul in Silliston Academy； the soul of his creed and race。
〃Away down the river；
A hundred miles or more；
Other little children
Shall bring my boats ashore。〃。。。
Janet drew in a great breath； involuntarily。 These were moments when it
seemed that she could scarcely contain what she felt of beauty and
significance； when the ecstasy and pain were not to be borne。 And
sometimes； as she listened to Mrs。 Maturin's voice； she wept in silence。
Again a strange peace descended on her； the peace of an exile come home；
if not to remain； at least to know her own land and people before faring
forth。 She would not think of that faring yet awhile； but strive to live
and taste the presentand yet as life flowed back into her veins that
past arose to haunt her； she yearned to pour it out to her new friend； to
confess all that had happened to her。 Why couldn't she？ But she was
grateful because Mrs。 Maturin betrayed no curiosity。 Janet often lay
watching her； puzzled； under the spell of a frankness； an ingenuousness；
a simplicity she had least expected to find in one who belonged to such a
learned place as that of Silliston。 But even learning； she was
discovering； could be amazingly simple。 Freely and naturally Mrs。
Maturin dwelt on her own past； on the little girl of six taken from her
the year after her husband died； on her husband himself； once a professor
here； and who； just before his last illness； had published a brilliant
book on Russian literature which resulted in his being called to Harvard。
They had gone to Switzerland instead； and Augusta Maturin had come back
to Silliston。 She told Janet of the loon…haunted lake； hemmed in by the
Laurentian hills； besieged by forests； where she had spent her girlhood
summers with her father； Professor Wishart； of the University of Toronto。
There； in search of health； Gifford Maturin had come at her father's
suggestion to camp。
Janet； of course； could not know all of that romance； though she tried to
picture it from what her friend told her。 Augusta Wishart； at six and
twenty； had been one of those magnificent Canadian women who are most at
home in the open； she could have carried Gifford Maturinout of the
wilderness on her back。 She was five feet seven； modelled in proportion；
endowed by some Celtic ancestor with that dark chestnut hair which；
because of its abundance； she wore braided and caught up in a heavy knot
behind her head。 Tanned by the northern sun； kneeling upright in a
canoe； she might at a little distance have been mistaken for one of the
race to which the forests and waters had once belonged。 The instinct of
mothering was strong in her； and from the beginning she had taken the shy
and delicate student under her wing； recognizing in him one of the
physically helpless dedicated to a supreme function。 He was forever
catching colds； his food disagreed with him； and on her own initiative
she discharged his habitant cook and supplied him with one of her own
choosing。 When overtaken by one of his indispositions she paddled him
about the lake with lusty strokes； first placing a blanket over his
knees； and he submitted： he had no pride of that sort； he was utterly
indifferent to the figure he cut beside his Amazon。 His gentleness of
disposition； his brilliant conversati