XXII
Fortunately for Rosamund the succeeding days were so busy that she had but little time to be alone with her thoughts of Ogilvie. The morning after Grace's departure, Father Cary had come home with disquieting news. Pneumonia had set in; but Doctor Blake would stay at the Summit until the crisis was passed, and he had sent for another nurse—the one who was at the head of his own private hospital, Pap proudly told Rosamund in a pitying attempt at reassuring her.
She had, first of all, to make some arrangement for Yetta. Cecilia rose to the occasion and found the suitable governess, who proved to be an elderly woman to whom Yetta took an immediate liking. Miss Gates had been something of a singer in her day, and she had a family of nieces and nephews that she was helping to bring up, all of whom were musical. She took Yetta with her to stay at their house until other plans could be made. Cecilia had, indeed, shown energy and good judgment, and something more; she sailed for the Mediterranean to join the Whartons at Algiers only after she saw Yetta installed in the Gates home—having been so good-natured as to let the yacht go without her in order to do so.
Matt and Aunt Sue were sent back to Georgia. Secretly they were quite reconciled to going, for they were to stop in Baltimore and replace their burned wardrobes with entire new ones, with which they looked forward to dazzling their friends in Augusta; but Sue felt obliged to use the prerogative of the negro servant to make a grumbling protest.
"I suttinly wouldn't 'a' journeyed 'way up to dis yer Gord-fo'saken corner ob de yearth," she declared to Rosamund, "whar dey ain't nothin' but a passel o' Yankee white trash, ef I had 'a' known I was a goin' to see my best Paisley shawl what Miss Lucy done give me when she was ma'ied bu'nt up wid flames befo' my ve'y eyes. Et don' do nobody no good traipsin' aroun' dis yer way, nohow. You better come along back home wid yer Aunt Susan, whar you b'longs at, chile."
After they left, the routine of life was simple enough; yet the days were laden with what anxiety, what care, what fears, and trembling hopes! Yet living as she was on news from the doctor's house, Rosamund was not altogether oblivious of what was passing in the hearts of her friends. She went every morning to the Tobet cottage, sometimes with Eleanor, sometimes alone. For several days Grace watched and waited for one who did not come. But at last Rosamund made a suggestion, which in a day or two brought its return.
"You know the little boy who brought that note to us at the brown house, last fall," she said to Grace. "Why not give him a note to Joe?"
"What to say?" Grace asked.
"That whatever happens, no one shall suspect him. Tell him you have my word, and Mother Cary's, for that."
"I'd be afraid to write words like those," Grace said. "They might go to the wrong one—and then no need to tell!"