"Yes, she has a good deal, she says. I don't know how much. I never thought to ask—to wonder, I mean; of course I wouldn't ask about it," said Happie. "I wanted to talk about this to you alone first, because you always were my Rock of Gibraltar, Bobby. Besides, I never know what I think about anything until I talk about it, then I find I have unexpected opinions, for I begin to express them."
The brother and sister talked over Aunt Keren's amazing announcement all the way down to Hoboken, which they reached sooner than any of the others, in a sense, owing to the absorbing interest of their topic. The train was late, impeded by the snow. It was five o'clock before the party reached the Patty-Pans.
They found Mrs. Gordon watching for them with the door of her flat open and Jeunesse Dorée, whom she looked after during the day while he was deserted, in her arms.
"Oh, Ralph, I'm so glad you are here at last!" cried his mother. "I was so relieved when I got Miss Bradbury's telegram this morning saying you would take the earlier train! Dear people, the most wonderful thing has happened! Mrs. Jones-Dexter, my unfortunate Aunt Lucinda, has been here this morning."
"Cæsar's ghost! What for?" cried Ralph. But Margery instantly guessed.
"Serena's ill!" cried Margery.
"Serena is ill," assented Mrs. Gordon. "Poor little Serena is desperately ill, so ill that you must not take off your coat, Ralph, but must go down to the Jones-Dexter house as fast as you can. I only hope you may be in time. The poor little blossom has been begging for you, for her 'kind big boy,' for 'Ralph,' but she did not know any other name for you, and Aunt Lucinda was frantic because she did not know where to find you, while the Scollards were gone. She would do anything to gratify little Serena at any time, but how when she is so ill, it might make a great deal of difference, affect her recovery, if her wishes could be granted. Mrs. Jones-Dexter remembered that the Charlefords might know who Happie's friends were, so she went to them. Mrs. Charleford did know who you were, and told her, Ralph. Then, putting under foot her bitterness of so many years' standing, and her Jones-Dexter pride, the unhappy old lady came here this morning to beg us to take pity on little Serena and send you to her. And she found you gone! Needless to say I promised that you should go to her house the moment you arrived. So go at once, Ralph dear, and stay as long as you are helpful and do all that you can for the child. Strange, that she has taken this violent fancy to her distant and unknown cousin! Hurry, dear Ralph. If you comfort Serena stay, but send me a message if you find you can't come home to-night."
Ralph went away at once. Robert said good-night, and accompanied him. The Scollards closed their door and went into the Patty-Pans feeling that their holiday was indeed over, and that events were rolling up around them faster than an incoming tide. For Margery had come home betrothed, Happie in demand for a legal adoption, and now here was Ralph summoned to the sick bed of his little third cousin, with a family reconciliation and all sorts of possible good results looming up ahead through the mediation of the child. It was saddening to think of little Serena lying dangerously ill, her flower-like little body a prey to fever and to pain. The girls would not think of the other possibility at which Mrs. Gordon had hinted—that Ralph might come too late.
But Laura reveled in grief and fully realized that here was an opportunity. She immediately took possession of the piano, and while Margery and Gretta busied themselves with the household duties involved in a return after a three days' absence, and Happie, with a sober face, went out to the delicatessen shop to supplement the deficiencies of their larder, Laura played dismal music, at the same time composing words for it. Tears of distress rained down her face while she artistically steeped herself in misery of the keenest painful enjoyment, because she was "making little Serena's funeral hymn," she said.