With another curious, scrutinizing stare at Mrs. Dismal and her daughter, whom she had been covertly watching all the time that she poured out her story, Mrs. Gossip departed in great excitement to impart her news at the next cottage, with the added spicy tidbit that Mrs. Dismal and her daughter Gloomy must have come into a mint of money and were all decked out in the most extravagant style.

Perhaps Sir Coward had been forced at last to pay financial compensation to his deserted wife, and now she and her mother were walking about like fashion plates!

The group on the porch looked at one another, and then Mrs. Dismal groaned and said: “My poor nephew, Self-Pity! His wife, Helpless, is the most inefficient housekeeper imaginable and she knows absolutely nothing about nursing.”

“Double pneumonia!” exclaimed Mercy commiseratingly, “and with no one to nurse him but that helpless little wife of his!”

“And the house all upside down, and that unhappy child with no one to do a thing for him,” said Mrs. Valiant. “It’s dreadful!”

“And Self-Pity himself so terrified,” added Grace and Glory. “I know how awful that is. And there is no one there to say a word to help him.”

“And the district nurse away at the end of the valley,” said Gloomy in the tone of one contributing to the pile of agony. “I met her early this morning starting off on her bicycle and she told me she would not be back until the evening.”

Mrs. Valiant rose to her feet briskly with the manner of one all ready to take charge and organize a rescue party. She was in her element in any emergency.

“We must do something for them at once,” said she with the utmost cheerfulness. “They need us—that is evident! Now is the opportunity for which we have been waiting so long to get into their cottage.”

“As I am a trained nurse,” said Mercy happily, “I will go along at once and offer to be his nurse as long as they need me. Of course, it may be that the doctor will send him to the hospital in the City of Destruction, but it is so far away that I think it unlikely they will risk moving him at this stage.”

“I shall go with you,” cried Mrs. Valiant, “and see what I can do to put the cottage in order and make a meal for poor Helpless and the children. I shall try to persuade her to let me bring little Doldrums home with me so that I can look after him here.”

“You’ll have a time of it, I warn you,” said Mrs. Dismal Forebodings gloomily. “He is the most undisciplined, obstinate, brawling, destructive little brat that you could possibly have to do with, tearing to pieces whatever he can lay his hands on. You’ll never have a moment’s peace, Valiant.”