“Why, Kit,” exclaimed grandmother, “what have you and Janey been doing?”
“Playing,” answered Christopher briefly. He seemed to have lost his usual too-ready tongue. “We were just playing.”
“Was Janey swinging in the hammock or anything that could have made her so seasick?”
“We weren’t near the hammock,” answered Christopher frankly. “Are you going to send for the doctor, grandmother?”
“I hope it won’t be necessary,” replied grandmother anxiously. “Please ask Huldah to come up-stairs, Kit. I’ll get Janey to bed.”
Jane appeared so limp and miserable that grandmother decided (greatly to her secret disappointment) to give up her journey to town and stay at home with her, letting grandfather go by himself.
“And it will be a melancholy meeting with such anxious news for the children’s father and mother,” she added regretfully.
“Oh, Jane’s not as ill as that,” expostulated Christopher. “She’s—she’s—it’ll just keep us from going home so soon, perhaps, but that’s all. You go ahead to town, grandmother. I’ll take care of Janey—me and Huldah. And perhaps Letty’ll come out and read to us.”
“Oh, I should be afraid to let Letty come until I know what the matter is. Janey may be coming down with something. It is most distressing, and Dr. Greene is away up country and won’t be back to-night.”
And grandmother, cheerful, serene grandmother, actually cried a little. But then you see, she was both worried about Jane’s sudden, somewhat mysterious illness, and disappointed that she should have such distressing news to give the children’s mother just at this last moment when everything had gone so beautifully all summer long.