“Of course she’ll say it,” David Linton said. “The only question is, how soon can you be ready?”
“Douglas is terribly proud,” Mrs. Hunt said. “I am afraid I couldn’t be proud. But he will never accept a favour. I know it would be no use to ask him.”
“Then we won’t ask him,” said David Linton calmly. “When does he leave the hospital?”
“This day week, if he is well enough.”
“Then we’ll have you comfortably installed long before that. We won’t tell him a thing about it: on the day he’s to come out I’ll go for him in the motor and whisk him down to Homewood before he realizes where he’s going. Now, be sensible, Mrs. Hunt”—as she tried to speak. “You know what his state is—how anxious you are: you told me all about it just now. Can you, in justice to him, refuse to come?—can you face bringing him back here?”
Geoffrey suddenly burst into sobs.
“Oh, don’t Mother!” he choked. “You know how he hates it. And—trees, and grass, and woods, and——” He hid his face on her arm.
“An’ tsickens,” said Alison. “An’ ackits to play in.”
“You’re in a hopeless minority, you see, Mrs. Hunt,” said Mr. Linton. “You’ll have to give in.”
Mrs. Hunt put her arms round the two children who were pressing against her in their eagerness: whereupon Michael raised a wrathful howl and flung himself bodily upon them, ejaculating: “Wants to be hugged, too!” Over the three heads the mother looked up at her visitors.