The next morning Jem and she consulted as to what could be done; Jem averring, very truly, that "folks wouldn't stand people coming to make inquiries after crying children."
"I should not so much mind if it were not for Cherry's hints," said Meg; "but, Jem, I could make something, or you could buy a few oranges to take in your hand, and say you had brought them for Dickie if you could find him. Would that do?"
Jem promised to do his best, and went to his work revolving the matter in his mind. He bade a tender adieu to his wife, looked in her pale face, and told her she must not worry, but remember what she had tried to teach Mrs. Blunt—to cast her burden on the Lord, and find anew that He would sustain her.
He hastened away, and Meg cleared her table, and went up-stairs to speak to her mother-in-law.
It could not have been more than half-an-hour afterwards that she and Mrs. Seymour were coming down together, and Meg had just reached the bottom step at her own landing, when a man's voice was heard asking in a loud voice as he came up—
"Does any one live here belonging to a man of the name of Seymour?"
"Yes," answered Meg and her mother both together.
"Because he's been run over near the Monument, and they've taken him to 'Guy's.'"
Meg gave one wild look at her mother, held out her arms to catch something, and fell fainting on the floor.