Stannard nodded. “Good work!”
Father Bob, his attention aroused, inspected the three with new interest in his sober eyes. He said nothing then, but after supper his hand fell on Elliott’s shoulder approvingly.
“Well done, little girl! That’s the right way. Face the music with your chin up.”
Elliott felt exactly as though some one had stiffened her spine. The least little doubt had been creeping into her mind lest what she had done had been heartless. Father Bob’s words put that qualm at rest. And, of course, good news would come from Sidney in the morning.
But courage has a way of ebbing in spite of one. It was dark and very cold when a forlorn little figure appeared beside Elliott’s bed.
“I can’t go to sleep. Trudy’s asleep. I can hear her. I think I am going to cry again.”
Elliott sat up. What should she do? What would Aunt Jessica do?
“Come in here and cry on me.”
Priscilla climbed in between the sheets and Elliott put both arms around the little girl. Priscilla snuggled close.