‘What shall you do with him on the railroad!’
‘Take him with us, of course.’
‘I won’t have him going in a first-class with me.’
‘Then I shall go in a second-class with him.’
Here it occurred to her that this was a strange way of fulfilling her mission of comfort, and she would fain have recalled her words, but only sat silent till they came to the station, where, without any further question, they were all three lodged in the same carriage, where presently a county neighbour entered, attracted by the sight of Arthur. Theodora was provoked, feeling for Arthur, and thinking it was the stranger’s presence that hindered her from resuming the task of cheering him, but she was more annoyed when Arthur plunged into a hunting discussion.
She sat working up the scene which awaited them, the child just expiring, his mother in hysterical agonies, and she herself displaying all her energy and resources, perhaps saving Johnnie’s life—at any rate, being her brother’s stay and support when his wife gave way.
His silence and anxious looks returned as they drove from the station, and she could think of nothing to say but the old hope that the baby was better. As they stopped, he threw open the carriage-door, and springing out, impatiently rang.
‘Child better?’ were his hurried words to James.
‘Yes, sir.’
Before even this brief answer was spoken, Arthur was halfway upstairs. No one was in the drawing room; he dashed up to the bed-room; that, too, was empty; he climbed on where he had never been before, and opened the nursery-door.