"We're not afraid, are we, Rob, my son? We know our machine is bound to succeed."
"Bound to succeed, Patergrey," said Rob, going over to him and laying a hand on her father's shoulder as though she were really the "son" he called her.
But that night, when Wythie, tired out, lay sleeping beside her, Rob's dark eyes were staring into the blackness, slumber completely driven from them by the events of the day, as she thought anxious thoughts for her sixteen years, and feverishly laid fruitless plans for being useful.
And that night, because of the over-excitement and the pang the decision he had reached had cost him, Mr. Grey had the second attack of the heart affection which threatened the Greys with a greater sorrow than the burden which had just been laid upon the little grey house.
CHAPTER TEN
ITS POSSIBILITIES
Frances appeared early on the following morning, and found sad faces to greet her where she usually found cheer.
"Well, what have you to propose to me, Francie, a secretaryship to the President, or to write the best-selling book of the year?" asked Rob, trying to speak brightly.
"The book is the nearer guess," said Frances. "I tried to think of what you could do best, and it was a puzzle. You are such a Jack-of-all-trades——"