Miss Barry nodded without speech.
Mrs. Porter went out on the piazza and sent Jerry to telegraph, telling him to return.
"Did you know my brother was ill?" asked Belinda, when she returned, still without moving.
"No. I thought him just overtired."
The other nodded. "That's the way they do it. Rush madly after money and more money till they go to pieces all of a sudden."
The bereft sister's eyes were fixed on space, seeing who knows what pictures of the past, when a barefooted boy romped with her over these rocks that held the nest he had given her. Suddenly her far-away look came back, and focused on the pitiful eyes regarding her drawn, pale face.
"I'm glad you're here," she said simply.
"And I am so glad," responded the other, her thoughts busy with Linda and Bertram, and longing to fly to them.
"Will you stay here in my cottage till I come back? I have a little girl that comes every day to help. She cooks pretty well. She'll stay with you."
"Yes, Miss Barry." It was on the tip of the visitor's tongue to say, "You'll bring Linda back with you," but she restrained the words. This common sorrow would do its work between aunt and niece, she felt sure.