"Yes—else she wouldn't go. I believe she's been at a loose end ever since she left the shop. She hates doing nothing and being waited on. It's contrary to her nature, and she's been very queer lately and frightened grandfather off and on. She'll be jolly glad to get back into the midst of things, and so will he. There's a lot of work in 'em both yet and it's good for their money and for the rest of the family that they're going back. There wouldn't have been any business left if Uncle Jeremy had messed about there much longer."
"To think we thought him such a wonder when we were little!" said Peter.
"When you get up to be a man yourself, you soon see what most men are worth," answered John Henry. "He'll never do anything and, if his children are like him, they'll all go in the workhouse soon or late; and if they're workers, then he'll live on them come he grows old."
Auna asked after her sister and heard that she was well. Then the brothers departed and Peter promised to return ere long.
"In about three days Nurse Woolcombe says we shall know for certain if father's going to live," Auna told them; "but I know now. I'm positive sure he's going to live."
"'Tis doubtful if it would be a good thing," declared John Henry. "I speak for himself, of course. I'm sure nobody wants him to die."
"It will be the turning point for father perhaps," thought Peter. "He might quiet down after a shaking like this."
Jacob Bullstone suffered for many days and it was a fortnight before Auna could find herself sleeping natural sleep and waking without dread. The sick man mended and fell back again. His strength wore down and a first relapse found him in the gravest danger, for his heart was weary. But he pulled up again with devoted nursing and skilled attention. To Auna, Nurse Woolcombe became as a goddess, and she sealed a friendship with the widow that lasted for life. They worked together and the younger was skilful and understanding.
The head symptoms continued distressing and Bullstone lapsed into delirium on several occasions after periods of sanity. His temperature puzzled the nurse and she strove to distract the patient's mind from himself. But, for a time, he continued impatient and declared that no friendly hand would have desired to prolong his life. Then he grew more reasonable, and when the crisis was past and his sons were permitted to see him, while secretly amazed at the sight of the pallid and shrunken ghost they called their father, both found him peaceful and in a frame of mind they hardly remembered.
His face was white and a growth of beard also helped to disguise the countenance they knew; but his great, dark eyes no longer roamed restlessly over them. They were dimmed by much pain, yet they were gentle and steady. He spoke little and his voice had weakened to a whisper; but he listened and nodded affirmation. His chief concern was with Avis.