"Not mother! I don't believe you, Maggie. You can't know anything about it. Mother must be going. You know she has never left me since I was born."
Then he flew to the door and shouted down the passage in a boisterous way, his pale face growing quite red and angry with excitement.
"Mother, you are going to England. Say you are going, and that Maggie doesn't know."
No answer came. Perhaps in that short silence a dim presentiment of the terrible truth was felt by this little boy, so soon to be separated from all he so fondly loved.
Jeff was soon rattling the door-handle of his mother's room in his usual impetuous way.
"Mother, mother, open quickly!"
There never was a repulse to that appeal. But the door was opened without even a gentle word of expostulation, and Jeff was drawn into a darkened room. The mother had got up from her sofa, for there was a mark on the cushion where her head had been. She stood in the middle of the room, now quite still, with her arms thrown about her boy. He did not see at once how very pale she looked, nor did he notice how her lips trembled.
"You will not send me away from you, mother. Oh, I will be good. I will never be naughty or troublesome any more if you will come to England with me. Mother, I promise. I cannot go without you; oh no, I cannot!"
Jeff was sobbing loudly now. The silence oppressed him. He felt instinctively that a solemn time had come in his life.
"Do not break my heart, my boy. Come on the sofa and sit beside me, and I will try and tell you what you must know."