The wheels grated on the gravel drive, and the sounds were dying away as Neil turned to find that the drawing-room door had opened.
Isabel ran to him and threw her arms about his neck, trying vainly to speak, as he held her to his breast, while her eyes looked imploringly into his.
“What does he say, Neil?” said Alison huskily. “Tell us the worst.”
“The worst,” replied Neil gloomily.
“Then he will die?” cried Alison excitedly.
“No, no.”
“But he has gone so soon. Don’t keep it back, man. He said he could do nothing?”
“He said that with care our father will live, but—”
He stopped short for a few moments and a sigh that was almost a groan escaped him.
“The poor old dad. Al,” he said softly, “I am afraid he will be a hopeless cripple if the knowledge of his state does not kill him right off.”