I do want not to grow horrid and conceited, just because I have had a little success. And that, of course, is a real danger. If I were not the least proud, I shouldn't mind so much the things he says. And of course I ought to think of his lameness, and of what a trial it must be to a boy not to play at cricket and football, or to run races and do everything like other boys. It wouldn't matter so much for a girl, but for a boy it really is dreadful. Yet when he worries me, I don't remember that, I only think of defending myself.
Nellie wrote so sweetly in her last letter. She said, "You know, darling Gladys, I am not clever, and I shouldn't like you to think me preaching, but still I do hope that having this work given you to do for Jesus will make you keep very close to Him."
And oh, I do hope the same! For it is work for Jesus,—though I am afraid some of it is for myself too, because I do so love writing, and I do so like what it brings. But He does give me the work to do; and I want it to be for Him; and I want to honour Him. I must pray to be able to keep silent when I feel vexed.
July 29. Wednesday.—Such a thing has happened,—and I am very unhappy. And yet I am so thankful that darling Nellie herself is not hurt.
Just before breakfast this morning a telegram came for Mother. It was from Nellie. She and Mrs. Romilly have just reached Cologne, where we knew they were going for a few days on their way farther North. The telegram is from a Cologne hotel, and it says—
"Please break news to father, railway accident, Mother much hurt, will Eustace come?"
And that is all. Not a word about whether she is in danger or not. But we all know that it must mean danger. Nellie would never frighten Mr. Romilly without good reason,—or send for Eustace.
The telegram seems to have been delayed, for Uncle Tom says it certainly ought to have come sooner, and that is so unfortunate, for it might just have caught Mr. Romilly.
The question was what to do. Uncle Tom would have gone straight up to London, but it was impossible that he should arrive before they had all left for Yorkshire. So a telegram was sent to Miss Con, repeating Nellie's words, and asking her to break it. Uncle Tom also telegraphed to somebody in the hotel, begging to hear at once whether the other telegram had arrived in time.
But it did not. The Romillys were off first. So then Uncle Tom sent another copy of the same telegram to the station where we believed they would stop for lunch, and a second copy to Beckdale Station, which is some miles off from Beckdale House.