"Jane, I am so glad you have told me what Theodore's name means," he remarked at length. "I must tell mother. Theodore—the gift of God—I think it's splendid!"
Meanwhile Theodore himself was romping in the hayfield, totally forgetful of his stepbrother at home. The men worked late, and it was quite dusk before the merry party broke up.
Theodore hastened home, and, rushing into the house, tore upstairs as quickly as he could, and into the nursery. But Jane was not there; and Jack, tired out with the heat of the day, had been put to bed. Theodore repaired to his stepbrother's room, and peeped cautiously in.
"Are you asleep, Jack?"
No answer. The room was nearly dark, and the blinds drawn down. Theodore tip-toed up to the bed, and leaned over the little figure that lay thereon. Jack was not asleep; on the contrary, he was very wide awake, but his pillow was wet with tears, and his breath came in sobbing gasps.
"Oh, I say, Jack, what's the matter?" Theodore inquired, in great concern. "Shall I call your mother?"
"No, you can't; mother's gone to a dinner-party," with a fresh burst of tears.
"Then I'll ring for Jane."
"No, don't—don't, Theo. Wait a minute."
Theodore obeyed, and stood patiently by till Jack was able to still his sobs. Then he took a very grimy-looking handkerchief from the depths of his trousers pocket, and wiped his stepbrother's eyes.