“Was it my fault? Was there anything I could have done?”
“No, dear,” he said simply. “It is not your fault.”
Pixie was certain that he had said “dear.” The rhythm of it remained in her ears, that, and the deep gentleness of his tone. He had been sorry for her, so sorry! And he was so much older, and he was Stanor’s uncle. Why should he not say “dear?”
Short and sharp was the attack, but by God’s mercy the crisis passed, and brought relief. Weak as a child, but peaceful and quiet, Pat slept, and took his first steps back towards life.
At last the danger was over, and Pat’s natural vigour of constitution made the convalescence unusually quick, but even when he was comparatively well again, Bridgie refused in an altogether amazing and unprecedented manner to return to her beloved home. She suggested not once, but many times in succession, that Pixie should return in her place to take the head of the household, but here Pat grew obstinate in his turn.
No! Pixie had had all the dull work of nursing; he was not going to allow her to return until she had had some fun. And when he began to go out for walks, pray, who was going to accompany him, if Pixie went away? “You’d be off after her, the moment you saw me on my feet. Don’t deny it, for I know better!” Pat declared, and Bridgie blushed, and did not deny it. Already she was pining for Dick and the children; already counting the hours to her return, but...
Movement was evidently in the air; perhaps it was caused by the bright, spring days which had replaced the former gloom. Pat on his bed discussed a possible holiday before returning to work. “It might hurry things,” he said. “What do you say, Pixie, seaside or country? Must go somewhere where there’s something to do! Winter garden, concerts, bands, people to look at. I want to be amused. We’ll have a week somewhere, and blow expense. You might come too, Glynn, and bring the car.”
Glynn was sitting in his usual place beside the fire; Bridgie was by the bed; Pixie prone on the hearthrug. During the last few days the invalid had been sufficiently strong to enjoy the society of his fellows, had even called upon Pixie to sing, and had apparently greatly enjoyed the hearing, though Bridgie seemed for once unappreciative, and had discouraged further efforts. Now his mind had turned on to holidays, and he had made this direct appeal to Stephen, which seemed to find scant favour from two out of the three hearers.
Bridgie frowned, and stared at the carpet; Stephen’s pale face showed a discomfited flush.
“You shall have the car with pleasure. It shall take you wherever you decide to go, and be at your service for as long as you please, but for myself, I must get home. I—I am not usually in town for so long at a time. There are several things waiting attention which should not be delayed. I must get back...”