But he did not give expression to his thoughts; he said, instead:
"Perhaps Neil is not there. I hardly think he is, as he does not like Vichy. You will hear from him soon no doubt. I am sorry for your sake that none of your relatives are here. But don't distress yourself. Grey and I will do everything."
"I know you will," she said; "but, Mr. Trevellian," and she laid her hand upon his arm, "you will not send that bill to Neil's father? I have over forty pounds. I can pay it myself. You will not send it?"
"Never!" Jack answered, emphatically, and then he went out to consult with Grey, who was sitting in the porch staring hard at an iron post which Jack began to kick vigorously, as he said: "Well, Jerrold, we are in for it, you and I; and we will see it through in shape. The old curmudgeon! He might come as well as not if he chose. There is plenty of time to get here, and he knows her mother is gone, for I added that to the dispatch I sent, so as to insure his coming. And where is Neil, the milksop? He, at least, might come. I have no patience with the whole tribe. But we will do what we can for the poor little forsaken girl."
"Yes," Grey answered him. "We will do what we can."
CHAPTER XIX.
WHAT GREY AND JACK DID.
They did everything that it was possible for two men to do under the circumstances. They filled the old house with flowers, until it seemed like one great garden of bloom, and the coffin they ordered would hardly have shamed a duke, while the undertaker had orders to send Bessie only a very small part of the real cost of the funeral. The rest they were to pay between them, though Jack at first insisted upon paying the whole. But in this Grey overruled him, and they agreed to share the expense equally. Nothing could be kinder or more deferential than their demeanor toward Bessie, who, wholly overcome with grief and fatigue, lay perfectly quiet in her room, and let them do what they liked, she was so weary and worn, and it was so good to be cared for; but on the day of the funeral she roused herself, and insisted upon going to the grave and seeing her father buried; so, with Grey and Jack on either side she walked through the yew-shaded garden to the small inclosure which was the family burying-place, and was so full of the McPhersons that after Archie's grave, there was only room for one more between him and the wall, and both Grey and Jack noticed this as they stood there and wondered if it would be Bessie or Daisy who some day would be brought there and laid in her last bed.
"Not Bessie," Grey thought, and there arose before him a beautiful spot far over the sea, where the headstones gleamed white in the sunlight, and the grass was like velvet to the touch, and flowers were blooming in gay parterres and the birds were singing all day long over Mount Auburn's dead.