Irene was crying—partly for Johnnie and partly for what she felt she was losing by being compelled to go home.
“What is it?” Rex asked. “What has happened? Sam tells me you are going to New York.”
At the mention of New York Irene caught eagerly. Her mind always worked rapidly, and if Rex thought she was going to New York it was not necessary to undeceive him and tell him she was going to Claremont—a place he had probably never heard of—so she answered:
“My brother is very ill and I must go to him.”
“Your brother! I did not know you had one,” Rex said, in some surprise.
“Yes, I have, and he is dying,” Irene answered, with a sob, while Rex looked puzzled, as we all were with the brother business, but had no time to ask questions.
“And are you going with her?” Rex said to Rena, who replied:
“Only to the station.”
“But she must not go alone. I shall go with her if you do not,” Rex continued. “I can telegraph Mr. McPherson.”
They had reached the gate by this time, and Rex, who was carrying the hat-box he had taken from Mrs. Parks, offered his disengaged hand to Irene to help her into the buggy, while Sam held the impatient Beauty. Irene knew he must not go with her to that low-roofed house in the factory village among the hills. It would be madness to suffer it, and she exclaimed, “No, no! I shall not allow it. He has malignant diphtheria. It is dangerous. I can take the journey alone. I would not let Rena go, and certainly not you, but I thank you for your kind offer. Good-by.”