There was no need for words.
She stood a moment spellbound, looking down on the little peaceful face, with its lingering smile, and then she went round the crib and knelt down by the lowered side and softly kissed Harry's forehead and soft golden hair.
She had not seen Jerry's dead face nor kissed him for good-bye, and she knelt beside Harry and wept for them both.
She had completely forgotten Pattie, but after a while, as she wiped away her tears and listened to Jim's story of the child's illness, she became conscious that there was another man in the room, and that Pattie and he were conversing in low tones by the window. She glanced round for Harry's aunt, but there was no one else there; only sundry sounds of stirring about in an adjoining room suggested that she was not far off, but was not inclined to see company. So with one more long look, one more kiss on the fair, still face, Denys and Pattie at last took their leave, and set out for Mrs. Richardson's.
As they left the street, Pattie looked up in Denys's face with crimsoning cheeks.
"Miss Denys," she said shyly, "that was my Tom that was talking to me. He was there taking a photo of the little dead boy, for he loved him, Miss, and—and—him and me, we've made it up, Miss Denys! We've always loved each other all along."
The visit to Mrs. Richardson was over, and Denys and Pattie were once more on their homeward way, hurrying along the crowded streets and threading their way in and out of the bustling crowds, with no thought in their minds but of an accomplished task and a great anxiety not to lose their train.
They took little heed of the passers-by, but their eyes were both attracted at the same moment by a very tall, fine-looking young fellow who was coming towards them with a big, bouncing baby swung high upon his shoulder; even at a good distance they made a conspicuous couple as they came down the street.
"There's Jim Adams," said Denys and Pattie in the same breath.