Part 13 (1/2)

”I am very glad you could come with us, dear,” said Mrs. Bell, smiling kindly, ”and next year I hope we can take Jack with us too.”

”I suppose it isn't a very nice thing to say,” Lulu whispered to Winifred, ”but I can't help being a little glad Gertie has the measles.

I do like Betty ever so much, and I know mamma likes her too.”

At the door of the Hamiltons' apartment the children separated, and Betty ran gayly upstairs, thinking of the delightful time she should have living the events of the afternoon all over again in describing them to Jack. She opened the front door with her key, and was just going to call out to her mother and Jack, when something in the unusual stillness of the place caused her to pause suddenly.

”Perhaps mother's lying down,” she said to herself, ”and Jack doesn't like to make any noise for fear of disturbing her. I'll go in softly and see.”

She stole on tiptoe to the sitting room door, and peeped in. Her mother was not there, but Jack was lying on the sofa as usual. At sight of her the little fellow started up and held out his arms. One glance at his face was enough to convince Betty that something had happened.

”What is it, Jack?” she whispered, running to his side, and beginning to tremble with a strange new sensation, but whether of joy or fear she did not know. ”What makes you look so--so queer? Where's mother?”

”Mother's in her room,” said Jack; ”she shut the door; she's gone to lie down, I guess.” His voice trembled, and he hid his face on Betty's shoulder.

”But something has happened, I know it has,” persisted Betty, trembling more than ever. ”Oh, Jack, what is it?”

”Betty,” said Jack softly, ”do you remember what you said the other day, about--about the thing that would make you happier than anything else, even than mother's getting well?”

”You mean the thing about you--oh, Jack, you mean about your being made to walk?”

Jack nodded.

”Tell me quick,” gasped Betty breathlessly, the circus and everything else forgotten in the excitement of this wonderful news.

”Well, Doctor Bell came this afternoon right after lunch, and there was another doctor with him. He was rather old, and not so nice as Dr. Bell, but I think he wanted to be very kind. First they went in the dining room, and talked to mother for a little while, and I think I heard mother crying. Then they came in here, and looked at me. What they did hurt a good deal, but I tried not to mind, because Dr. Bell called me a brave soldier boy. Then they went back to the dining room, and talked some more to mother, and the new doctor went away. After that mother and Dr. Bell came back here. Mother was crying a good deal, but she looked awfully glad too, and they told me what it all meant. Next week I'm to go to a hospital, and have an operation. It won't hurt, Dr. Bell says, because they'll give me something to make me go to sleep, and when I get better, they think--they're not quite sure--but they really do think, that I shall be able to walk.”

CHAPTER IX

SUSPENSE

It was very quiet in the Randalls' apartment one warm spring afternoon.

For nearly two hours the only sounds to break the utter stillness had been the ticking of the clock and an occasional movement from the kitchen, where Mrs. Flynn tiptoed softly about, preparing dinner. Mrs.

Randall sat in the armchair by the open window. Her face was white and set, and sometimes her lips moved, but no sound came from them. Betty felt sure that her mother was saying her prayers. It seemed to Betty as though a month must have pa.s.sed since the morning. She had tried to read, to sew, to do anything to pa.s.s the terrible hours of suspense, but it was of no use, and now she sat on a stool at her mother's feet resting her head against Mrs. Randall's knee. She was trying very hard to be brave, but she knew that if she dared glance even for a moment at Jack's empty sofa, she would no longer be able to choke down the rising sobs, or keep back the tears which seemed so near the surface.

Early that morning Jack had been taken away to the hospital, and even as they sat there in silence, Betty and her mother knew the work was being done which was to decide the fate of the little boy for life.

The doctors had decided that it would be best to perform the operation before hot weather set in, and besides, as Dr. Bell wisely explained to Mrs. Randall, it would never do to keep the child in suspense any longer than necessary, now that he knew what was impending. Mrs. Randall was not yet strong enough to leave the house, but Dr. Bell had come himself for Jack, and Mrs. Hamilton had gone with them to the hospital, promising to remain until the operation was over. Jack had been very brave and cheerful, and the excitement had helped every one up to the last moment. Dr. Bell had told funny stories to make them all laugh, and Mrs. Hamilton had talked about the nice things they would bring Jack when they came to the hospital to see him. No one had cried, only, just as the last good-byes were being said, Jack had suddenly thrown his arms round his mother's neck and clung to her, and Mrs. Randall had clasped him close to her heart, and held him there in a silence that was far more expressive than any words. And now it was afternoon, and Betty and her mother were waiting, in silent, breathless suspense, for the news that they both knew must come before long. Mrs. Hamilton had promised to let them know the moment the operation was over.

The door creaked softly and Mrs. Flynn came in with a cup of tea in her hand.

”Take a drop of tea, dearie, do,” she whispered soothingly, bending over Mrs. Randall's chair; ”it'll put heart into ye.”

Mrs. Randall shook her head impatiently.

”Not now, Mrs. Flynn; I couldn't touch anything now, it would choke me.

Perhaps by and by----”

Mrs. Flynn turned away with a sigh, and went back to the kitchen, beckoning to Betty to follow her.