He understood, of course, that it was to be his souvenir of her, all he could have of her, through the long years to come while she played out her loathsome rôle as the wife of the dissipated Boy Senator and he taught school at Riceville or--what did it matter what he did?
His hand closed quickly on the violet, and he turned to face Dr. Hobart, who was just entering from the sick room.
The physician was highly reassuring. The Senator was doing very well indeed.
"He'll be able to meet us in Springfield, then, to-morrow night?" demanded Rockwell.
"I think he'll be well enough to do that," returned Hobart, with a slight evasiveness which Rockwell and Merriam had occasion a few hours later to recall with some vividness. But at the moment they scarcely noticed it.
"Good!" cried Rockwell. "We're off. No! Wait."
He drew a folded paper from his pocket and handed it to Aunt Mary.
"This paper describes a simple form of code telegram. Use it in your messages to us in regard to the Senator's progress and when and where he is to join us. You'll wire at least once a day, of course."
"Yes," said Aunt Mary, accepting the paper.
Merriam shook hands with Aunt Mary.