Peter: A Novel of Which He is Not the Hero

by Francis Hopkinson Smith

“Well, won't you go, then? Oh, please—please—aunty.” Peter's bald head now rose above the edge of the banisters. Miss Felicia motioned him to go back, but Ruth heard his step and raised her tear-drenched face half hidden in her dishevelled hair.

“Oh, Uncle Peter, is Jack—is Mr. Breen—”

Miss Felicia's warning face behind Ruth's own, for once reached Peter in time.

“In his bed and covered up, and his landlady, Mrs. Hicks, sitting beside him,” responded Peter in his cheeriest tones.

“But he fainted from pain—and—”

“Yes, but that's all over now, my dear,” broke in Miss Felicia.

“But you will go, anyhow—won't you, aunty?” pleaded Ruth.

“Certainly—just as soon as I put you to bed, and that is just where you have got to go this very minute,” and she led the overwrought trembling girl into her room and shut the door.

Peter stood for an instant looking about him, his mind taking in the situation. Ruth was being cared for now, and so was MacFarlane—the white cap and apron of the noiseless nurse passing in and out of the room in which he lay, assured him of that. Bolton, too, in the room next to Jack's, was being looked after by his sister who had just arrived. He, too, was fairly comfortable, though a couple of his fingers had been shortened. But there was nobody to look after Jack—no father, mother, sister—nobody. To send for the boy's uncle, or Corinne, or his aunt, was out of the question, none of them having had more than a word with him since his departure. Yet Jack needed attention. The doctor had just pulled him out of one fainting spell only to have him collapse again when his coat was taken off, and the bandages were loosened. He was suffering greatly and was by no means out of danger.

If for the next hour or two there was anything to be done at MacFarlane's, Peter was ready to do it, but this accomplished, he would shoulder his bag and camp out for the night beside the boy's bed. He had come, indeed, to tell Felicia so, and he meant to sleep there whatever her protests. He was preparing himself for her objections, when she reentered the room.