“I know,” Norah said. “I tried to think like that—but it hurts so, that one can’t help him. We would do anything to make him feel better.”
“And you will, in time. Remember, you and your father are more to him than any one else in the world. Make him feel you want him; I think nothing else can help him so much.” Mrs. Hunt’s eyes were full of tears. “He was such a merry lad—it breaks one’s heart to think of him as he is.”
“He was always the cheerfullest person I ever saw,” said Norah. “He just laughed through everything. I remember once when he was bitten by a snake, and it was hours before we could get a doctor. We were nearly mad with anxiety, and he was in horrible pain with the tourniquet, but he joked through it all in the most ridiculous way. And he was always so eager. It’s the last thing you could call him now. All the spring has gone out of him.”
“It will come back,” Mrs. Hunt said. “Only keep on trying—let him see how much he means to you.”
“Well, he’s all we have left,” said Norah. There was silence for a moment; and then it was a relief when the children burst into the room.
They all went to the station two days later to see Mrs. Hunt off for her excursion. Michael was not to be depended upon to remain brave when a train actually bore his mother away, so they did not wait to see her go; there were errands to be done in the village, and Norah bundled them all into the governess-cart, giving Geoffrey the reins, to his huge delight. He turned his merry face to his mother.
“Good-bye, darling! Take care of yourself in London Town!”
“I will,” said his mother. “Mind you take care of all the family. You’re in charge, you know, Geoff.”
“Rather!” he said. “I’m G.O.C., and they’ve got to do what I tell them, haven’t they? And Mother—tell the Colonel to send Father home.”
“Then you won’t be G.O.C.,” said Norah.