"No; I think we can cut that, Miss Impatience," laughed her father. "Mother could hardly use it again even for hemming floor-cloths."
"I'm not so sure, Jack," said Mrs. Orban; "my stock of cottons is running very low. It is time you went away and brought me a fresh supply."
Mr. Orban undid the last knot, but instead of taking the knife Eustace was still patiently holding out, he began winding up the string into a neat coil. The children glanced up in desperation, to find his face grave and preoccupied. He looked as if he had entirely forgotten the parcel.
"What is it, dear?" said Mrs. Orban, with sudden alarm in her voice. "Is anything wrong?"
Mr. Orban roused himself with an effort.
"Oh no," he replied slowly; "nothing wrong exactly. Only your words struck me oddly, for, as a matter of fact, I have to go away, and soon too."
Eustace glanced quickly at his mother, and the look in her eyes made him forget the parcel too.
"Not far, Jack, I hope," she said.
"Rather, I'm afraid," was the answer. "I hope you won't mind being left for a week or two."
"A week or two!" exclaimed Mrs. Orban in a tone that was unmistakably disturbed.