Then, too, as Judge Kirtley hurriedly explained to Mrs. Pennybacker, who, having some confidence in her own ability as a nurse and a country woman's distrust of hospitals, had urged Margaret's removal to her own home, at the hospital she would be spared the further strain of seeing the child taken away. It would be hard for her to come back to a house without him, but not such an ordeal as his forcible removal would be. After this Mrs. Pennybacker said no more.
With Judge Kirtley she herself had taken Margaret to the hospital, the girl still mercifully oblivious to all around her. Then she had returned to Massachusetts Avenue to get Philip ready for his removal to Elmhurst. Life seemed to be moving on pretty rapidly just now.
When she reached the house the child was gone. Mr. De Jarnette had come for him almost immediately, Bess reported.
"No. I told him in Mr. De Jarnette's presence that his mama was sick and he was going to his Uncle Richard's for a little visit. I guess I emphasized visit, maybe. I think Margaret had prepared Philip for it. I heard her tell him last night that perhaps he would go to his Uncle Richard's for a while, and that he must be a brave little boy and not cry."
"I know. I think she lost courage last night. Perhaps she had a presentiment of how it was to be. I am glad she took that way of preparing the child. Did he cry?"
"No. But his chin quivered, the way it does, you know, when he tries to keep from crying."
"Poor little thing!"
"Grandma," said Bess, thoughtfully, "I don't believe Mr. De Jarnette is going to be unkind to Philip. He didn't say much, but he seemed to be looking out for him—asked if he hadn't some favorite playthings that could be taken along. You wouldn't imagine his thinking of such a thing as that, would you? Isn't he a strange man?"
"Incomprehensible, to me. What did you give him?"