“Did you hear me say, girls, that my dear father is living?” she calmly inquired.
“Yes,” said Miss Conyers, speaking with an apparent composure that was very far from her real condition—“yes; but why do you think so?—I mean, how do you know it?”
“I will tell you, dear, some other time. Now I do not feel equal to the theme. And besides—Elfie, dear,” she said, turning to her nurse, “I am so hungry.”
It was a “word and a blow,” for before Erminie had finished speaking Elfie had whisked from the room.
And in ten minutes she returned with a little tray covered with a white napkin, and a cup of weak green tea, and a round of delicate brown toast.
Erminie drank the tea with a great enjoyment, and even ate a morsel of the toast.
“I could drink another, only I do not think it would be prudent, and so I will refrain,” she said, as she gently pushed away the tray.
“No, it would not be prudent, dear. When the doctor comes, we will ask what you may take, and how much of it. And I only hope he may say you may eat and drink as much as ever you like of whatever you fancy,” said Elfie, as she removed the little service.
“Elfie, darling, did I dream I saw, or did I really see my dear brother Justin by my bed?” inquired Erminie, with an effort at recollection.
“You really saw him, love. He is in the house,” replied Elfie, very much relieved to find the way opened so easily for introducing Justin, without too greatly surprising Erminie in her weak condition.