"Doing?" Theodore repeated faintly, looking round on the assembled faces. "Doing? Nothing—only—smoking."
There was a moment's dead silence. Then Theodore saw the sympathy on the servants' faces give way to ill-suppressed amusement; and his father remarked, in decidedly relieved accents:
"So you've been smoking, have you? And you feel very ill? I can quite believe it. Don't be frightened, you are not so bad as you fancy, and you'll be better soon. Cheer up, Jack! There's nothing to be alarmed about. I think, Theodore, bed is the best place for you."
So saying, Mr. Barton turned away, and went downstairs.
The faithful Jane, much relieved as to the cause of her darling's illness, and, assisted by Mrs. Barton, soon had Theodore tucked up in bed, where he lay very sick, and suffering badly in his head for some hours.
At last he fell asleep, so that he never heard the stir and commotion that was going on in the house, for his sleep was deep and heavy; and when he awoke he thought it must be tea-time, he was so very hungry.
Then he remembered all that had taken place, the look of mingled relief and anger on his father's face when he had confessed he had been smoking, his stepmother's evident amazement, and the amused countenances of the servants. His cheeks burned with shame; and he determined to get up at once, and tell his father all about it.
Very slowly, for he felt weak and rather lightheaded, he arose and dressed, and made his way to the nursery. Jack was there alone, so intently and eagerly looking out of the window, that he never noticed his stepbrother till he reached his side.
"Well, Jack," Theodore remarked, rather shamefacedly.
"Oh, Theo, darling, are you better?"