After this it is a relief to everybody when Miss Barry, with a singularly brief farewell to Crosby, betakes herself to the house. It is quite as well she has gone so soon, as Carew and Dominick were in the last stages of convulsive laughter, and could not certainly have held out much longer.
‘I say, isn’t Aunt Jemima a regular corker?’ says Dom presently, addressing everybody in general.
‘She didn’t understand,’ says Susan, who feels a little sorry that her aunt should appear in so poor a light before a man like Crosby, who is, of course, accustomed to a fashionable world and its ways.
‘I think she has a very kind heart,’ says he promptly, seeing her distress and smothering the laughter that is consuming him. ‘Of course, she had no idea that the doctor was alluding to Miss Blake’s state of health.’
‘You knew,’ says Susan, with a touch of indignation, turning to Carew. ‘Why didn’t you make it clear to her?’
‘Why, indeed?’ retorts he. ‘You tried to do it, and how did you come off? Catch me explaining her mistakes to Aunt Jemima. More kicks than ha’pence for my pains.’
Bonnie has come over to Susan, and, casting his crutches aside, has slipped into her arms, his head upon her knee—a head that she strokes softly, softly, until at last the little lad falls fast asleep.
‘He had such a bad night,’ says Susan, as Crosby now comes up and seats himself beside her.
‘I expect that means that you had a bad night too.’
‘Oh no’—reddening—‘I—I’m all right. But he—’