"My two sweethearts!" Mrs. Maslin said, and as though even that was too great a tax drifted off into unconsciousness again.
"She is all right," said Doctor Branshaw. "Better go now, Maslin. I will see you downstairs."
Tears were pouring down the Colonel's face as he rose and with a long, adoring look at his wife, left the room, Claire clinging to his hand. But out in the long corridor, the door safely closed behind them, Claire gave a deep sigh and quietly fainted.
The Colonel picked his daughter up, turned into the first unoccupied room and laid her on the bed. Then he hurried after a nurse. When Claire came to herself, Rosanna, rather pale, was holding her hand. She was trying to swallow something bitter, and her father stood near her, looking as though he was to blame.
"Oh, I am so sorry, daddy!" she said as soon as she could speak. "I feel all right. What a silly thing for me to do! How is mother?"
"If you are going to behave yourself now, dear, I will go and see," said Colonel Maslin. He kissed her and hurried off. Claire, feeling strangely weak but so happy, turned to Rosanna.
"She knew us!" she said. "She knew us both, and now, even if she dies, I will always have that to remember."
"She will not die!" Rosanna declared for the hundredth time.
"There are worse cases than your mother's," said the nurse comfortingly. "If she stands the shock, she will be all right, and I am sure she will. Don't you worry or think she is not going to be well. You want to send thoughts of courage and strength to her instead of thinking that she must die."
"That sounds like some of the new religions," said Rosanna.