"We shall be able to tell then," he answered, equally softly. She sank down on a chair. Her brother did not wait for her answer, but pulled out his instrument case and took out of it something shiny, long and thin, bending down with it over the boy. She saw nothing more; nor could she think of anything either--she only tried not to give way; she heard the boy whimper and call repeatedly "Mother" in a frightened voice; she had not the strength to rise up, dared not move. She heard Kent say: "Now it is over, my boy;" but could not see what was over.
Little Edward whimpered and cried, and insisted on having his mother up to his bed. So she tried once or twice, but it was quite impossible; her brother acted like a weight on her, although he never even looked her way.
The door opened and shut; he had gone, and she breathed more freely. Kent went up to her at once, kind and sympathetic.
"There must be an operation," he whispered.
"What for?" She knew it would be of no use; she had seen it written in her brother's face.
"Because everything must be tried," answered Kent.
With the most miserable little voice, the boy begged his mother to come to him.
"I am coming." She knelt down beside him and began to cry.
"They hurt me," the boy said, complaining.
Ah, if she could have answered: "It was to make you well that you may get out again." But even Kent dared not say that. She struggled to find courage to forbid the operation, but she dared not, she was afraid of her brother. Kent stood there waiting; she became conscious of that at last, and looked despairingly at him. He stooped down to her.