“I have always said,” she announced, “that it is not a good thing for American men to spoil their wives as they do, and particularly as papa spoils you. Here you are in the most ordinary predicament that can befall a woman, and yet you are utterly demoralized because he is not here to pet you and make you think you are the only woman that ever had a baby. And upon my word,” she added reflectively, “I believe he would be perfectly happy if he were here. I can just see the fuss he would make over you——”
Here her mother’s sobs became so violent that she was roused to genuine concern.
“I’ll cable at once,” she said. “But what shall I cable? I don’t know how to intimate such a thing, and I certainly can’t say it right out.”
“I will write. Give me the things.” Mrs. Forbes raised her disfigured face and pushed back her hair. “It will make me feel better. Of course you cannot cable without alarming him, and he has had enough.”
Augusta brought the writing materials with alacrity. Mrs. Forbes wrote two lines. The tears splashed on the paper.
“Those will look like real tears,” said Augusta reassuringly. “Once I helped Mabel write a letter breaking off an engagement, and she sprinkled it with the hair-brush. I am sure he must have guessed. Here, I’ll send it right away, and then you’ll feel better.”
She summoned a bell-boy and dispatched the letter. “There!” she said, patting her mother’s head. “He’ll be sure to come over now, and all will go as merry as a marriage-bell—my marriage-bell. Tell me, mamma, don’t you feel that this is a special little intervention of Providence to bring things about just as we want them? Aren’t you glad that this is the end of doubt and worry, and that you can keep your houses and lovely jewels?”
“I don’t know,” said Mrs. Forbes wearily. “I want nothing but my husband.”
CHAPTER XXI.
The week passed. No cable came from Mr. Forbes. His wife did not admit further disquiet. She knew his pride. He would come, but not with the appearance of hastening to her at the first excuse.