"Oh, God!" he cried, "do help Jack, and make him well. Don't mind what I feel, only take away Jack's pain, for Jesus Christ's sake."
And as he prayed, Theodore felt assured that God was listening to him, that he was not praying in vain. When he arose from his knees he was much happier, and when Jane wanted him to go to bed, he submitted to her wish passively.
It seemed to Theodore that he had been asleep but a short while when he was aroused by his stepmother's voice.
"Theodore! Theodore!" she cried softly, "Jack wants you. Will you come?"
He was out of bed in a moment, and not waiting even to slip on his dressing-gown, followed Mrs. Barton into the passage. At the doorway of Jack's room she paused, hesitated a moment, then asked anxiously:
"You are not afraid?"
"Afraid!" He lifted his fearless grey eyes to her face in astonishment, wondering what she meant.
"You need not be; for though he has been so ill, he is not suffering now," she added quickly, as she opened the door and went to the bedside.
Theodore peeped into the room. No, Jack was not suffering now, for he was lying back quietly on the pillows, his dark eyes wide-open, turned in the direction of the door. The doctor and Mr. Barton stood near, and Jane hovered in the background.
"Theodore has come to see you, my darling," Mrs. Barton said, as she bent over her little son and kissed him tenderly.