Edgar gave way then, since there was so much truth in what Bertha said about being able to hitch up more quickly than he could do it; so he went back to the kitchen, where the neglected supper was spread upon the table, then he coaxed the children out from their hiding-place about the sofa and fed them while he got his own meal. Of course the coffee was cold, but even cold coffee is satisfying to a man who has not had a proper meal for twenty-four hours, and when one is very hungry, anything in the way of food becomes absolutely appetizing.
The children were also very hungry, and so they were the more easily consoled, although, it is sad to relate, they could not hide their elation when they knew that the cross old man was very ill, and Molly voiced the general opinion when she said that she hoped that he would stay so.
“Can I bring you anything, Mrs. Ellis, or do anything for you?” Edgar asked, when he had the children all happily employed at the table.
“Thank you, no. I shall do very well until Bertha or Eunice has time to attend to me,” Grace answered, and then, a thought coming into her mind, she asked quickly, “Will you tell me quite candidly whether you think that I have any reason to keep on hoping that my husband is alive? I know that Bertha would bid me hope, from the very best of motives, just to keep me from giving way to despair; but what do you think?”
What could he say? Previously he had not had the slightest doubt that the whole of the Expedition had shared the same fate, but, to his own surprise, he suddenly found himself doubting. Why should everyone be so ready to believe that they had all perished? Was it likely that a score or more of able-bodied men would tamely sit down for death to claim them when the stores gave out? It was much more likely that they would make an attempt to reach some place where food could be found, and so, although they might have to suffer great hardships, they might yet win through.
“What do you think?” persisted Grace, her wistful eyes scanning his face to see if haply she could glean a little hope from its expression.
He hesitated a moment, then answered frankly, “Five minutes ago I did not think it possible for there to be any more hope that they have any of them survived, but now I am disposed to think that perhaps we may hear of some of them having got through; only, it will take some time for that, you know, and we cannot be sure of anything for weeks and weeks yet to come. Don’t give up hope all the time that there is the barest shred of hope to cling to.”
“Thank you,” she answered softly, and he went out of the house with a pang at his heart, because he had no better comfort to give to her.
“It is so cold to-night, that you will need to wrap up well. Have you no other coat?” asked Bertha, when she led old Pucker up to the door.
“No; you see my entire wardrobe,” he said, with a laugh which was quite free from embarrassment. His poverty was owing to no fault of his own, so there was no need to be ashamed of it; then he asked, “Could you lend me a sack or an old rug to wrap round me? It will never do to let the influenza fiend find me out again, or I shall be a nuisance to somebody as I was before.”