Part 8 (1/2)

”There's a break in her temperature.”

”A break! You mean--”

”A drop--a landslide--during the last twelve hours. She's sleeping quietly. She's--”

But something suddenly interfered with the speaker's articulation.

Although Jarvis continued to listen with strained attention, a silence succeeded. His imagination filled the gap. He essayed to offer congratulations, but found something the matter with his own powers of speech. After a moment's struggle, however, he was able to say, ”I'll be round as quick as I can get there.”

Mrs. Burnside, pa.s.sing the telephone closet at the back of the hall, heard a rush therefrom, and found herself suddenly embraced by a pair of long arms. Although blue goggles concealed her son's eyes from her look of sympathetic inquiry, the smile which transformed his face was not to be mistaken.

”Jarvis, dear--you've had good news!”

”Max couldn't say much, but his voice told. The fever's down--she's sleeping!”

”Oh, I am glad--so glad! The dear child! I couldn't sleep last night, after the discouraging news.”

Her son did not say that he had not slept, but he looked it. His finely cut features showed plainly that for more than one night he had been suffering severe and increasing strain.

”We must tell Josephine,” said his mother happily, proceeding on her way with Jarvis's arm about her shoulders.

”You look her up, please. I'm going to bolt down to see Max and the rest. Uncle Timothy was about all in last night when I met him. These last five days--”

Jarvis released his mother, seized his hat from a tree they were pa.s.sing, and escaped out of a side door. Mrs. Burnside hurried away upstairs to find her daughter. If the Burnside family had been bound to the Lanes by ties of blood, each member of it could hardly have been more intimately concerned with the issue of Sally's illness.

Away down town, at the Winona flats, Jarvis's ring brought an instant response, and a minute later Bob was shaking his hand off at the half-way landing. Then Alec was rus.h.i.+ng to the top of the stairs, and Max was shouting from the bath-room, where he was shaving. Uncle Timothy alone remained quiet in his chair, but his worn face was bright.

”It's great news, Mr. Rudd, great news!” cried Jarvis, wringing Uncle Timothy's out-stretched hand of welcome.

”Yes, Jarvis--yes. But--I must warn you all to make haste slowly in the matter of a.s.surance. It looks favourable, certainly, but the child has been through a hard fight, and she is not out of danger yet. You know I don't want to dampen your happiness, boys--” and Uncle Timothy looked tenderly from one face to another, out of the wisdom of his greater experience.

Their faces had sobered. ”I understand, sir, of course,” Jarvis agreed. ”But the drop in the fever and the quiet sleep surely mean a promising change?”

”Very promising--no doubt of it. And we are thankful--thankful. It is a wonderful relief after the reports we have been getting.” He took off his spectacles and wiped them. Then he wiped his eyes. ”With care, now--”

he began again, cheerfully.

But Bob could not help interrupting. ”She's getting splendid care,” he cried. He could not endure the thought that it was still necessary to exercise caution lest they rejoice prematurely. He had taken the leap from boyish despair to boyish confidence at a bound, and he had no mind to drop back to a half-way point of doubt and depression.

”I suppose we ought to wait a few days before we run up any flags,” Max admitted, and the others reluctantly agreed.

During the following week they learned the reasons for respecting Mr.

Rudd's advice. Though Sally's bark had certainly rounded the most threatening danger point, there yet remained seas by no means smooth to be traversed, and more than once wind and waves rose again sufficiently to cause a return of anxiety to those who watched but could not go to the rescue. But, in due time, recovery became a.s.sured, convalescence was established, and finally the great day was at hand, when she should come home from the hospital. She looked still very pale and weak, as they saw her lying in her high white bed in the long ward--how they had mourned that they could not afford to give her a private room!--But she was Sally herself once more, and looking so eagerly forward to being at home again that it was a joy to see her smile at the thought of it.

”I wish it were not so excessively hot,” said Uncle Timothy, regretfully.

He stood in the doorway of Sally's room. It had been put in order by Mary Ann Flinders--or, to be more exact, Mary Ann Flinders had attempted to put it in order for Sally's reception the next day.

Max looked in over his uncle's shoulder. ”I don't know that it's any hotter in here than anywhere else!” he demurred, irritably. He was in his s.h.i.+rt-sleeves, and he had that moment removed his collar and neck-tie.

Uncle Timothy had got as far as taking off his waistcoat and donning an old alpaca coat, in which he had been striving to imagine himself comfortable.

”I think it must be several degrees warmer in this small room than in the dining-room,” a.s.serted Uncle Timothy. ”And it is ninety-two there. It is unfortunate that the poor child should have to come back to such an oven as this. At the hospital a breeze circulates through the wards. Here there seems to be none.”