Part 8 (1/2)
Even the bravest feels a little squeamish when absolutely alone through the long night. Judy was brave, her father's own daughter, but those nights alone in the studio in Rue Brea had got on her nerves. It was just so much harder because of the gay, jolly winter spent in the place.
”I feel like one who treads alone Some banquet hall, deserted,”
expressed her sentiments exactly. Once she dreamed that Molly Brown was standing over her with a cup of hot coffee, which was one of Molly's ways. She was always spoiling people and often would appear at the bed side with matutinal coffee. The dream came after a particularly lonesome evening. She thought that as Molly stood over her, her hand shook and some of the coffee splashed on her face. She awoke with a start to find her face wet with hot tears.
Here at the Tricots, life was quite different. Mere and Pere Tricot were playing a happy duet through the night with comfortable snores. Marie could be heard cooing to her baby as she nursed it and the baby making inarticulate gurgles of joy at being nourished. The feeling of having human beings near by was most soothing. Judy did not mind the snores, but rejoiced in them. Even when the baby cried, as it did once in the night, she smiled happily.
”I am one of a family!” she exclaimed.
CHAPTER VII.
A MOTHER'S FAITH.
”Edwin, Kent has been gone over two weeks now and not one word from him,” announced Molly when Mr. Bud Woodsmall had come and gone, leaving no mail of any great importance. ”I can see Mother is very uneasy, although she doesn't say a word.”
”What was the name of his steamer?” asked the professor as he opened his newspaper. ”I wouldn't worry. Mail is pretty slow and it would take a very fast boat to land him at Havre and have a letter back this soon.”
Edwin spoke a little absent-mindedly for the Greens were very busy getting ready for their yearly move to Wellington College and time for newspaper reading was at a premium.
”But he was to cable.”
”Oh! And what was the name of the steamer?”
”_L'Hirondelle de Mer_, swallow of the sea. I fancy it must mean flying fish. Paul says it is a small merchantman, carrying a few pa.s.sengers.”
”_L'Hirondelle de Mer?_” Edwin's voice sounded so faint that Molly stopped packing books and looked up, startled.
”What is it?”
”It may be a mistake,” he faltered.
Molly jumped up from the box of books and read over her husband's shoulder the terrible headlines announcing the sinking of the small merchantman _L'Hirondelle de Mer_ by a German submarine. No warning was given and it was not known how many of the crew or pa.s.sengers had escaped. The news was got from a boat-load of half-drowned seamen picked up by an English fis.h.i.+ng smack. The cargo was composed of pork and beef.
Molly read as long as her filling eyes would permit, and then she sank on her knees by her husband's chair and gave way to the grief that overcame her.
”Oh, Molly darling! It may be all right. Kent is not the kind to get lost if there is any way out of it.”
”But he would be saving others and forget himself.”
”Yes, but see--or let me see for you--it says no women or children on board.”
”Thank G.o.d for that!--And now I must go to Mother.”
”Yes, and I will go with you--but we must go with the idea of making your mother feel it is all right--that Kent is saved.”
”Yes--and I truly believe he is! I couldn't have been as happy for the last few days as I have been if--if--Kent----” She could say no more.
Edwin held her for a moment in his arms and then called to Kizzie to look after little Mildred, who lay peacefully sleeping in her basket, blissfully ignorant of the trouble in the atmosphere.
”Look! There's Mother coming through the garden! She knows! I can tell by the way she holds her head.”