Part 9 (2/2)

”Oh, yes, certainly; and the children, what of them?”

The doctor glanced for the first time towards the sofa where the two children sat, Jack propped up with pillows, and Betty close beside him, holding his hand. He remembered what Winifred had said about the little crippled boy, and his face softened.

”We must see about them by and by,” he said, ”and in the meantime I think we can count on their keeping quiet.”

”Oh, yes, sir,” said Betty eagerly; ”Jack is always very quiet indeed, and I won't make any noise.”

”That's right. You are both going to be brave little people, I know, and perhaps by and by you may like to go and make a little visit to some of your friends, just until your mother gets stronger.”

”We haven't any friends,” said Betty; ”we don't know any one at all, except Mrs. Hamilton and Winifred.”

The doctor looked surprised, and a little troubled.

”No friends?” he repeated; ”no aunts or cousins?”

Betty shook her head.

”We have an uncle in England,” she said, ”but we've never seen him. We haven't any relations in this country. Mother has her pupils, but we don't know any of them.”

The doctor said no more, and was turning to leave the room, when Jack spoke for the first time since his entrance.

”Please, sir,” he said tremulously, ”would you mind telling us--is mother going to be well again pretty soon?”

”Pretty soon I hope, my boy,” said the doctor kindly, and coming over to the sofa, he took the thin little hand in his and looked long and earnestly into Jack's troubled face. ”I shall do all I can to make her well soon, you may be sure of that.”

”Thank you, sir,” said Jack gratefully. ”I think you are a very kind gentleman,” he added in his quaint, old-fas.h.i.+oned little way.

The doctor smiled, gave the small hand a friendly shake and hurried away, followed by Mrs. Hamilton.

That was about the longest afternoon Betty and Jack had ever known. Mrs.

Hamilton was very kind, but she was too busy to pay much attention to them, and they were left pretty much to themselves. There was no use in trying to read or to play games. They tried lotto, but it proved a miserable failure. Then Betty tried reading aloud, but a big lump kept rising in her throat and choking her, and they soon gave that up as well. After all, the most comforting thing seemed to sit hand in hand, talking in whispers, and listening to every sound from the sick-room.

At about four o'clock there was a ring at the bell, and Betty, hurrying to admit the visitor, encountered in the hall a tall young woman, with a bright, sensible face, who carried a traveling bag, and who Mrs.

Hamilton told her was the nurse Dr. Bell had promised to send. After that there was a good deal of whispering and moving about, but no one came near the children, and the time seemed very long indeed.

It was nearly dark when the doctor came again. The children heard his voice in the hall, and after a little while he and Mrs. Hamilton came into the sitting room together, and Mrs. Hamilton lighted the gas.

”You poor little things,” she said cheerfully, ”what a long, lonely afternoon you have had. They've been as quiet as little mice, doctor, and I feel sure Betty is going to be a great help to Miss Clark. As for Jack, he is going to be a good, brave little boy, and let Winifred and me take care of him till his mother gets well again.”

She bent over the sofa as she spoke, and softly kissed Jack's forehead.

He looked up in her face rather apprehensively, and his lip trembled.

”You're very kind indeed,” he said politely, ”but if you please, I'd rather stay with mother. I'll be very good.”

<script>