Miss Browne sat down, quivering with the suspense.
'Which,' she whispered, 'which of them is dead, your mother or little Challis?'
Bartie it was who laughed—a hoarse apology for a laugh.
'Dead!' he said; 'they're coming home, Miss Browne!'
It was Miss Browne's turn to look anguished. She rose up and moved uncertainly about the room, she began to tidy the music in feverish haste, she dusted the piano yet again.
Then she turned to Mr. Cameron with one hand fluttering out.
'I—I—must ask you to let me have a s—shilling,' she quavered; 'the—the boys really must have their hair cut before she sees them.'
CHAPTER II
The Wonder-Child
'Yet now my heart leaps, O beloved! God's child with His dew
On thy gracious gold hair, and those lilies still living and blue,
Just broken to twine round thy harp-strings.'