She scorned to answer that, and repeated, ‘Give him to me.’

‘How about me coming, too, then?’

‘I hardly think so,’ Dr Macdonald said a trifle testily. ‘Mrs Baines may be of some use . . .’ The unspoken words ‘but you’d merely be in the way’ hung on the air. He threw himself into the driving seat and pressed the starter.

‘Goodbye, then, Em. Let me know,’ Wesley cried after the moving car. He stood there looking so big and helpless that Miss Mayfield was moved to pity.

‘How about you, Mr Baines? Can you manage? Food, for instance. Would you like . . . Would you like to come and have supper with me this evening?’

‘Thass mighty kind, Miss. But I reckon I ain’t going to hev much appetite, not till I hear.’

‘They have such wonderful cures nowadays, all these marvellous new drugs. I think perhaps the doctor was in a hurry because he’d thought of something, some treatment, so he didn’t bother to say the few words that would have relieved your worry. And, of course, Mrs Baines being a nurse, she may worry too much, like . . . like teachers worry most about their children’s progress at school.’

He shook his head at that.

‘No; Em was right and I was wrong. I made light of it. All so sudden . . .’

‘Well, I do hope you’ll soon have news, good news. And if at any time you want a meal, remember you’re very welcome to share mine.’

‘Thank you, kindly. But I’m used to fending for myself. Em’s often called on, you see. You been a great help.’

He turned in at his gate and Miss Mayfield set out for home. She had taken only a few steps when she remembered that she had left her handbag, containing her keys, on the workbench. She turned back.

The cottage door was open; and by the cobbler’s bench Wesley Baines was kneeling, his head bowed, his big hands clasped before him like a good child’s. Miss Mayfield reached in and retrieved her bag without his being aware of her presence. As she went softly away she was a little eased of her concern for him. He had his source of strength and comfort.

7

SYDNEY HAD BEEN TAKEN INTO HOSPITAL ON Wednesday, and by Saturday there was still no change in his condition. Every evening at six o’clock Mrs Baines telephoned to the Post Office, and one of the Flack sisters ran along and reported, first to the anxious father and then to the village in general. It was therefore known to everyone that Sydney’s illness remained a mystery, that he was being kept isolated in a small room by himself and that his mother was being allowed to help with his nursing.