"Cry away, poor dear. That will do you good," Mildred said, putting kind arms round her.
And when Mrs. Groates could again look up, her face, though blistered with tears, had lost its strained and unnatural expression.
"Now I am going to make you lie down for a time on the sofa, and you must not talk," said Mildred. "Never mind about the children. I will see to them. And Jack shall come to you,—yes, I promise that he shall. I want you to keep quiet. Try not even to think a great deal. Try to feel that you are in the hands of One Who loves you."
"I'll try. My head don't seem as if it could think," Mrs. Groates murmured.
And Mildred hoped that it might be so for a while.
The Vicar had in some respects a harder task than that of Mildred. He went a good distance along the sea-road before descrying Jack. And then he had plenty of time to note Jack's vigorous walk before the two drew near together. Jack was perhaps absorbed in his own thoughts, for he did not see the Vicar until they were only about twenty yards apart. Jack's honest cheerful face lighted up with a hearty smile, and he quickened his pace, but was surprised to have no smile in reply.
"Had he done anything to vex the Vicar?" This idea came to Jack first. "And if so, what could it have been?"
"I have come to meet you, Jack. On purpose to meet you. We will walk back together." Mr. Gilbert hoped that Jack would inquire why he had done so; but Jack made no such inquiry.
"That is kind of you, sir. My mother said she'd been telling you about what I wanted to do. I've been wishing to see you. If there was any chance that you could help me, sir,—"
"Yes, we must think about that—another day. Not to-day. I have, just at this moment, something else to say."