“It wouldn’t be much good if you did,” remarked Leila drily. “You’d better hurry up or you’ll be the late one this morning.”
Breakfast was all ready and Aunt Margaret at the table when they went in. But almost at once the children became conscious of a change in her face and tone; it almost seemed as if she had been struggling to keep back her tears, and tears, to the old, seldom come lightly.
“Is—is anything wrong?” asked Leila tremblingly, and all in a moment something came over Christabel—she felt as if her heart had stopped beating.
“Yes,” said Miss Fortescue. “Darlings, we must be brave and hopeful still—and better than all, we must earnestly pray that he may be spared to us—but—I cannot hide it from you. There is sad news this morning—little Jasper has had a bad turn of some kind in the night. He is very, very ill.”
“Who said so—who brought word of it?” said Chrissie with a strange sort of fierceness in her tone; “p’r’aps it’s not true.”
Miss Fortescue shook her head.
“Miss Greenall went herself, as she has done every morning,” she replied; “she has been so kind; and when she rang, your mother spoke to her out of the window. She has done so twice a day, you know, and till now she looked quite cheerful. But this morning—the poor girl scarcely knew how to tell me. Edith was quite calm, but, oh dear, dear—she just said what I have told you. The darling is terribly ill—I don’t think—” but here the poor old lady, brave as she was, turned away. She could say no more.
“Have they sent for Dr Wilkins?” asked Leila, and her voice sounded quite unlike itself.
“Oh yes,” replied Aunt Margaret. “He has been there half the night, and is coming again this morning.”
“Can’t Miss Greenall go back now to ask if he’s any better?” Leila went on.