“There,” Hetzel added, “now I hope you’ll brace up a little.”
“I suppose I ought to,” said Arthur. “Anyhow, I’ll try.”
Mrs. Hart was much relieved. Indeed, her spirits underwent a considerable reaction. Her eyes brightened, and she cried, “Oh, to think! The dear child will be home again by luncheon-time to-morrow!”
“And now,” put in Hetzel, “I would counsel both you and Arthur to go to bed. A night’s rest will work wonders for you.”
“Yes, I think so, too,” agreed Mrs. Hart. “But you—you will not leave us? You will sleep in our spare room?”
“Oh, thank you. Yes, perhaps I’d better stay here, so as to be on hand in case any thing should happen.”
All three climbed the staircase. Mrs. Hart showed Hetzel to his quarters, and inspected them to satisfy herself that every thing was in proper order for his comfort. Then he escorted her back to her own bed-chamber. Arthur was standing in the hall. Mrs. Hart bade them both good night, and disappeared. Thereupon Hetzel, turning to Arthur, said, “Now, old boy, go straight to bed, and refresh yourself with a sound sleep. Good-by till morning.”
But Arthur stopped him. In a voice that betrayed some embarrassment, he began, “I say, Julian, I wonder whether you would very much mind my sleeping with you. You see, I—I haven’t been in there”—pointing to a door in front of them—“since—since—” He broke off.
“Oh, of course. You don’t feel like being left alone. I understand. Come on,” said Hetzel.
“Thanks,” said Arthur. “Yes, that’s it. I don’t feel like being left alone.”