“Yes,” his mother agreed. “But now, dear, I must send a word to your father—just to tell him I got home safely, and—and that, in one sense, the worst is over.”
“You mean the telling us? Oh, Mums, it’s all much, worse for you than for us,” said Roland, and somehow the words comforted her a little.
Upstairs in the nursery, it certainly did not seem as if the strange and startling news had had any very depressing effect on Leila and Christabel. The former was already established in her usual cosy corner, buried in her newest story-book; the latter was only very cross. She had discovered that Nurse had been crying, and turned upon her sharply, though the poor thing was only anxious to be all that was kind and sympathising.
“What in the world have you to cry about, Nurse?” she demanded. “It isn’t your father and mother that have lost all their money.”
“I have no father, as you know, Miss Chrissie,” she said quietly, “and my brothers take good care of mother. But your father and mother have been kind true friends to me, and you surely can understand that I can feel sadly grieved for their troubles, and indeed for all of you, my poor dears,” and her voice broke.
Chrissie felt a little ashamed. She turned away so as not to see Nurse’s tears.
“It’s no use crying about it, all the same,” she said more gently. “What can’t be cured, must be endured.”
“That’s true,” Nurse agreed, “and I’m glad to see you so brave;” but to herself she wondered if the thoughtless child realised in the very least all the changes that this unexpected loss of fortune could not but bring about in the, till now, indulged and luxurious life of the Fortescue children.