CHAPTER XX

RUN OVER

"WHO is killed?" asked Mildred.

Miss Perkins shivered, and Jessie stood gazing in a vague dismay.

"Tell us what has happened, and who is killed," repeated Mildred, pressing her hand gently upon Miss Perkins' shoulder. "I might be some help perhaps. Where did it happen? Near here? Who is it, Miss Perkins?"

Miss Perkins preserved a resolute silence.

"It would be better to tell us at once," Mildred said gravely, and at the same moment Jessie murmured, "Jack!"

"Poor Jack!" sighed Miss Perkins.

Jessie broke into a frightened sob.

"No, no, not that; she does not mean that," said Mildred. "Jack is not killed, Miss Perkins! No, I thought not," as Miss Perkins shook her head. "Then who was it? Not the Vicar?"

Another shake, and Mildred drew a breath of relief.

"Just out in the street," Miss Perkins began, suddenly finding her voice. "And I'd been talking to him only one minute before. He said it was a fine day, and I said yes, it was. And he said he didn't think it would be so fine to-morrow, the clouds were gathering up so. O dear, never thinking that there wasn't to be no to-morrow for him! And I said what a wonderful thing it was about the money for the boat, and didn't he wonder who it was that had given it? O dear me!" with another gasp. "And he said he wouldn't have thought there was a person in the place as had got anything like as much to spare; and he only knew he hadn't.

"'Times is bad,' says he, with a sort of a melancholy smile, 'and it's hard enough to make both ends meet nowadays,' he says.

"And then I said, 'Good-morning.'

"And he says 'Good-morning.' And then he turned back as I was turning away, and he says, 'So Jack's going to leave us.'

"And I says, 'A very sensible plan too.'

"And he says, 'I'm not so sure about that either.'"

A faint "Oh!" had escaped Jessie's lips, and she looked imploringly at Mildred.

"And then—?" said Mildred.

"And then Mr. Gilbert came up, and he stopped to speak to me; and Mr. Groates was standing in the road, close to the corner, and he stopped to look our way, and nodded to Mr. Gilbert, and I saw Mr. Bateson coming along the road quick. And that very moment Stobbs' cart dashed right round the corner. Nobody could have seen it coming, nor warned Mr. Groates. He was just knocked down flat, and it went over him, and his head struck on the curb-stone. And I was looking, and I saw it all," added Miss Perkins, with unnecessary pity for herself.

"I'm sure it gave me such a turn . . . I don't know whenever I'll get over it. It's made me feel all a sort of upside down. And I couldn't move, no more than if I'd been turned into a stone; but I had to hold on to the lamp-post. And they all came running, and the boy jumped down, and he did look frightened, and no wonder, to see Mr. Groates lying there on the ground. But nobody hadn't time to see to him, though I'm sure he deserved a scolding, tearing round corners at that rate. It's a shame the way those butcher boys do go about. I wonder people aren't killed every day. The boy said the horse was running away, and he couldn't hold it in; but there's no knowing whether he spoke the truth.

"And Mr. Bateson stooped over Mr. Groates, and looked into his face and felt his pulse, and we all waiting round, not knowing whatever was going to happen. And Mr. Gilbert said something quite low, so as I couldn't catch it, and Mr. Bateson shook his head, and said, says he, 'Quite dead!' That's what he said, as plain as I'm speaking now. 'Dead!' says he, and he seemed mighty sorry too."

"Jack's father dead!" Jessie broke out in bewilderment.

"That's what the doctor said; and Mr. Gilbert asked if he was sure, and if there wasn't just a chance, for I heard him. And Mr. Bateson said, no, nothing could be done, and Mr. Groates was killed. It was the blow on the head had killed him, he said. And then Miss Sophy Coxen came and asked if I wouldn't have her arm home, and I'm sure I don't know how I'd ever have got home without. It does give one a turn to see anybody killed like that. But she wouldn't come in, because she'd got to go and tell her sister, and she said maybe she'd be wanted. And Mr. Gilbert, he ran after me, and he says, 'This is awfully sad,' says he, 'and you can tell Miss Pattison,' says he."

"Yes, I will go to them at once." Mildred said, as if in answer to a call. Then she looked at Jessie. "Unless you wish it," she added. "Dear Jessie, you have a sort of right,—but I think I could be of more use, just at first. If you will stay and take care of your aunt."

"Oh I couldn't help—with him," Jessie said, with a shudder. "I should be afraid."

"Not if there was need! No woman who is worth anything will hold back when there is need. You would not be a coward then. But I have had so much more experience, that it is better for me to go now. It will be a sad household."

Mildred ran upstairs and was down again almost immediately, in bonnet and cloak. She kissed Jessie's pale and dismayed face, told her to give Miss Perkins some hot tea, and advised Miss Perkins to lie down for an hour. Then she hurried away.

There was a general air of oppression in the place. A sudden death in a small village is felt by everybody; and Groates, if in no especial sense a favourite, was generally respected and to some extent liked. At all events, his wife and eldest son were liked, and that in no common degree. And this ending to the life of one of themselves had come about with frightful suddenness, without the smallest warning. One moment well and healthy, talking lightly about the morrow's weather, the next a poor helpless body lying in the road, no longer a living man.

Anything so terrible had not happened for a long while. When the drowned sailors were washed ashore, and were buried in the old Churchyard, people had been forced to feel a little more vividly than usual the very narrow line which divides this existence from the next. Still, those sailors had been strangers, men unknown to any one in Old Maxham. Groates was known personally to them all. It was the grim hand of death descending into their very midst, and taking away one of themselves.

Was he ready for the great change? People asked this question with bated breath. Happily it is a question which we are not called upon to answer, one for another. No time at the last had been allowed him, if he had not used the time at his disposal before. It was "fearfully sudden," one and another said. But if he were ready for the call, the suddenness would be nothing. To those who live in daily communion with God, a sudden call Home means only sudden rejoicing.

Mildred might have spent a long time talking in the street, had she been so minded. Several tried to stop her, to see how much she had heard, to find out whether she could give information: but Mildred would not be delayed. Those who wished for a brief talk had to keep pace with her rapid footsteps.

Outside Groates' Store she was literally seized upon by Miss Sophy Coxen, and to escape instantly was beyond even Mildred's power.

"Do tell me how that poor dear Miss Perkins is," panted Miss Sophy, in vehement excitement. "She did look bad, and no mistake. And you're going to ask about them over there? O well, I can tell you all you want to know. I've been to the door, and they wouldn't let me in. They won't let anybody in. So it's no manner of use your going. You'll only just give them the trouble of answering the door again. The shop's shut up, and nothing going on. Mr. Bateson and Mr. Gilbert are both there, and I should have thought they'd have wanted a woman to help, but it's no good saying anything. Those Groateses are such queer people, there's no getting hold of them. Then you mean to go just the same! O well, it isn't my fault if you are turned away from the door. That's all I have to say."

Or rather, perhaps, it was all that she had the opportunity of saying, so far as Mildred was concerned.

Mildred attempted no argument, but quietly withdrew from Miss Sophy, went to the door, rang, and was admitted.

"Now, I wonder what that's for?" demanded Miss Sophy in dudgeon. "I should have thought I was as good any day as Miss Pattison, and I've been used to turn my hand to things, and I could have been a help. She won't be no sort of good. Well, I do think it's an ungrateful sort of world. The times I've spoken kindly to the Groateses, and the times we've bought things at their shop, just to give them a bit of encouragement, because they didn't seem to be getting on; and then to be turned off like this, and Miss Pattison let in! Pretty near a stranger to the place as she is, and we who've been here for years and years and years! I do think it's a shame. I shan't go to Groates' shop again in a hurry, I can tell them."

Then she remembered that Groates himself was no longer head of that shop, that Groates had passed away from their midst, and her mutterings died away under a sense of awe.

Meanwhile, Mildred passed into the darkened house, and was met first by the Vicar's kind hand grasping hers.

"This is good of you," he breathed. "I felt sure you would come. I've had to refuse Miss Sophy Coxen; the poor things seemed to dread seeing her. But somebody is wanted."

"How is Mrs. Groates?"

"Wonderful! I never saw such courage. Took it all in at the first moment, and had him laid on the bed, and insists on doing all that is needed for him herself. She's there now, and I've been thinking who to get to help her."

"I'll go, sir, at once. I can help."

The Vicar looked questioningly.

"Yes, I have done it before. I know what to do."

"Then come this way, please."

Mr. Bateson met them, coming from the bedroom door, and his face gained a look of relief the moment his eyes fell on Mildred. "That's right," he said. "I can't get Mrs. Groates away, but she must have somebody with her. You can do it?" questioningly, like the Vicar.

"Yes, sir."

"True woman, ready at a pinch!" murmured the doctor.

"According to that definition, a good many women in the world are not true women," the Vicar remarked, in a tone of consideration.

"Very much the other way. It all depends," the doctor said. "If a woman thinks first of herself, she is useless; if she thinks of others, she is able to do anything."

"Sad day for these poor Groateses!" sighed the Vicar. "Everybody will feel for them. I don't fancy many knew Groates well, but his wife has won golden opinions, and Jack. By-the-bye, where is Jack?"

"Gone to the farther end of New Maxham. I don't think he is expected back for another hour or two,—unless the news reaches him. Stobbs ought to take warning from this, and not let his lads drive at such a reckless pace. If the poor fellow's head had not struck the curb-stone, he might have got off with broken ribs. I suppose there is no more I can do now. I'll look in by-and-by, just to see how Mrs. Groates is. She may suffer later from her courage now."

Mr. Bateson disappeared, and the Vicar waited for what seemed to him a long time. At length the bedroom door opened, and Mrs. Groates came out with Mildred.

"It's all done, sir, now," Mrs. Groates said, facing the Vicar. She was very pale, and her eyes had a curious fixed look, as if she hardly knew how to open them properly; but her voice and manner were composed. "Miss Pattison says she'll stay and have a cup of tea with me."

"Yes, yes, quite right. I knew you would find Miss Pattison a help. And . . . one question, Mrs. Groates,—if you don't mind. Can you tell me where Jack has gone?"

A kind of startled cry escaped her. She seemed suddenly to remember that Jack was still is ignorance of the loss which had befallen them. Her hands were wrung together.

"Don't try to say much. Only a word, to tell where Jack might be found. I should like to go after him at once."

"I'm sure it's very kind," faltered Mrs. Groates. "Everybody is so kind. He was going to the old windmill, sir, beyond New Maxham, to see about flour. Yes, walking,—he meant to walk both ways. And he was to come home by the sea-road, because Mimy meant to meet him, if she could get there in time."

"Then I will meet him, instead of Mimy. That is better. I will take care how he is told."

"Thank you, sir, kindly;" and Mrs. Groates looked at him with a glimmer of tears in her eyes. She had not yet wept at all. "It will be a comfort when my Jack comes back."