“I will show you where to find it, in the Visitation of the Sick. I dare say it has often been read to her.”
The boy and girl came in with her, and brought their Prayer-books to her room, that she might mark them.
This had been a strange, long, sad day of waiting and watching for the telegram, and the children even fancied it might come in the middle of the night; but Miss Fosbrook thought this unlikely, and looked for the morrow’s post. There was no letter. It was very disappointing, but Miss Fosbrook thought it a good sign, since at least the danger could not be more pressing, and delay always left room for hope.
The children readily believed her; they were too young to go on dwelling long on what was not in sight; and even Susan was cheerful, and able to think about other things after her night’s rest, and the relief of not hearing a worse account.
The children might do as they pleased about going to church on saints’ days, and on this day all the three girls wished to go, as soon as it had been made clear that even if the message should come before the short service would be over, there would be ample time to reach the station before the next train. Miss Fosbrook was glad to prove this, for not only did she wish to have them in church, but she thought the weary watching for the telegram was the worst thing possible for Susan. Sam was also going to church, but Henry hung back, after accompanying them to the end of the kitchen-garden. “I wouldn’t go, Sam; just suppose if the message came without anyone at home, and you had to set out at once!”
“We couldn’t,” said Sam; “there’s no train.”
“Oh, but they always put on a special train whenever anyone is ill.”
“Then there would be plenty!”
“At least they did when Mr. Greville’s mother was ill, so they will now; and then you may ride upon the engine, for there won’t be any carriages, you know. I say, Sam, if you go to church, and the telegraph comes, I shall set off.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” said Sam. “You had much better come to church.”