Mr. Maclean seemed a little annoyed.
"I nearly ran into them," he growled. "Cuthbert was the man who did the clean neat thing."
Mabel stirred her coffee with a dainty air, and then she looked provokingly at Mr. Maclean. In some way she made Elma believe that she did not credit that he could be valorous like Cuthbert.
"I think it was most grand-iloquent of you," Elma said to Mr. Maclean by way of recompense.
The word saved the situation. Where doctors' assurances had not cleared anxiety from the brow of Mr. Leighton, nor restored the placidity which with Mrs. Leighton was habitual, the genuine laugh which followed Elma's effort accomplished everything.
"I shall go right up and tell Cuthbert," said Jean.
"No, you won't! Cuthbert mustn't laugh," said Mrs. Leighton hurriedly.
"Oh, mummy," said poor Elma.
Nobody laughed later, however, when all four girls were tucked in bed and not one of them could sleep. Betty in particular was in a nervous feverish condition which alarmed Elma. She would have gone to her mother's room to ask advice, except for Mabel's great indication of courage that afternoon, and the certainty that Mabel and Jean were both sensibly fast asleep in the next room. She took Betty into her own bed and petted her like a baby. On windy nights Betty never could sleep, and had always gone to Elma like a chicken to its mother to hide her head and shut out the shrieking and whistling which so unnerved her. But to-night, nothing could shut out the fear which had suddenly assailed her that everybody died sooner or later, and Cuthbert might have died that day. She lay and wept on Elma's shoulder.
At last the door moved gently and Mrs. Leighton came in. The moon shone on her white hair, and made her face seem particularly gentle and lovely.