“Did the doctors tell you what ails her?”
“When will she get well?”
“How soon may we see her?”
And so forth, and so forth.
Mr. Force answered these questions as well as he was able, but not at all satisfactorily.
The old skipper broke in upon their talk.
“Force! I wish to the Lord you would order these girls down to breakfast! Here it is ten o’clock and not one of us has had a mouthful.”
“My dears, is that true?” demanded their father.
“Oh, we could not touch any food so long as we felt so anxious about dear mamma!” answered Odalite, for the whole party.
“Come down at once! Le, give Odalite your arm! Grandiere, take care of Rosemary! Enderby, look after Wynnette! Come, my little Elva, under my own wing,” said the squire.