Before he had done, Rose was at the drawer, turning over the bandages with hands that trembled as they searched.
"All narrow! I must make some. Can you wait?" And, catching up a piece of old linen, she tore it into wide strips, adding, in the same quick tone, as she began to roll them,—
"Now tell me."
"I can wait: those are not needed just yet. I didn't mean any one should know, you least of all," began Archie, smoothing out the strips as they lay across the table, and evidently surprised at the girl's nerve and skill.
"I can bear it: make haste! Is he much hurt?"
"I'm afraid he is. Uncle looks sober, and the poor boy suffers so I couldn't stay," answered Archie, turning still whiter about the lips that never had so hard a tale to tell before.
"You see, he went to town last evening to meet the man who is going to buy Brutus—"
"And Brutus did it? I knew he would!" cried Rose, dropping her work to wring her hands, as if she guessed the ending of the story now.
"Yes, and if he wasn't shot already I'd do it myself with pleasure; for he's done his best to kill Charlie," muttered Charlie's mate with a grim look; then gave a great sigh, and added with averted face,—
"I shouldn't blame the brute; it wasn't his fault: he needed a firm hand, and—" he stopped there, but Rose said quickly,—
