Bertrand would not answer. He turned his face away again.
“He’s had a fall, cousin Hortensia,” said Mavis. “But I don’t think it’s very bad, he says he’s only bruised and sore. Bertrand, do you think you can manage to get down to your own room?”
“If you’ll come at one side and Joseph at the other, I’ll try,” said the boy, with unusual graciousness. “And when I’m in bed, will you stay beside me, Mavis? I think the pain isn’t so bad when you’re there,” he whispered, so that no one else could hear.
Miss Hortensia was quick-witted.
“I will order a fire to be lighted in Bertrand’s room,” she said; “and if you like, Mavis, you may have your supper there beside him.”
She hurried away, calling Ruby to go with her. It was a sign of a very different state of things with Ruby that she showed, and felt, no jealousy at Bertrand’s preference for her sister.
“Poor Bertrand,” she said to herself softly, “perhaps I made him naughtier than he would have been.”
The boy was more hurt than he would allow, but he put great constraint on himself, and limped downstairs with scarcely a groan.
“It’s nothing compared to the other pain,” he murmured. And when he was at last safely deposited in his little bed, he looked so white and pitiful that for the first time Mavis stooped down and gave him a loving kiss. Bertrand started.
“What is it?” said Mavis.