“Hello, Jeannie,” he said cheerily. “Going to keep me company, are you? Did you come up alone?”
“Kit drove me over. Doctor, Billie is all right, isn’t he?”
“We hope so,” answered the old doctor. “But what is it to be all right? If the boy’s race is run, it has been a good one, and he goes out fearlessly, and if not, then he is all right too, and we hope to hold him with us. But when this time comes and it’s the last sleep before dawn, there’s nothing to do but watch and wait.”
“But do you think—”
Jean hesitated. She could not help feeling he must know what the hope was.
“He’s got a fine fighting chance,” said the doctor. “Now, I’m going in with Mrs. Ellis, and you comfort the Judge and brace him up. He’s in the study there.”
It was dark in the study. Jean opened the door gently and looked in. The old Judge sat in his deep, old leather chair by the desk, and his head was bent forward. She did not say a word, but tiptoed over and knelt beside him, her cheek against his sleeve. And the Judge laid his arm around her shoulders in silence, patting her absent-mindedly. So they sat until out of the windows the garden took on a lighter aspect, and there came the faint twittering of birds wakening in their nests.
Jean, watching the beautiful miracle of the dawn, marveled. The dew lent a silvery radiance to every blade of grass, every leaf and twig. There was an unearthly, mystic beauty to the whole landscape and the garden.
And just then the old doctor put his head in the door and sang out cheerily, “It’s all right. Billie’s awake.”
Jean called Kit later to tell her the good news and Kit drove over shortly. “That’s a relief,” Kit exclaimed. “I hardly slept a wink all night, I was so worried. You don’t look as if you slept.”