“I’m sure it would be an excellent thing,” I said, as she paused, “but I do not think there is much fear of Moore’s strength failing him, though he has been rather a delicate boy.”
“I hope not,” said Miss Jessie; “I hope not, indeed. Perhaps we felt unduly anxious, for in our case it was not till several days after the accident that the grave injury was discovered.” I suppose my face must have betrayed a little alarm at this, for she hastened to reassure me.
“If Dr Meeke is satisfied, I am sure you may feel so,” she said. “He is really a very competent man. We had no misgiving on that score; it was only hearing of you two young things being here alone, we felt we—must inquire at first hand.”
“You have been most good and kind,” I said. “I shall never be able to thank you—you all,” after a moment’s hesitation, “enough;” and though she said nothing, I felt that she understood the under-sense of my words. I had it on the tip of my tongue to add that I hoped their friend had caught the later train, but a moment’s reflection satisfied me that I must follow their cue, and make no allusion to the secret which their brother and I had agreed to preserve intact.
Then they both rose, saying they had detained me long enough; I must be anxious to rejoin my brother.
“We shall hear how he goes on,” were Miss Jessie’s last words, “as Dr Meeke calls now and then at present. We have a delicate young servant who requires care.”
“Yes,” I said impulsively, “and Mr Caryll Grey—I suppose he is never very strong?”
Both faces brightened perceptibly at the mention of his name.
“His condition does not vary much,” said Miss Grey in her precise way, “and, thank God, he rarely suffers acutely. And what we should be still more thankful for—his nature is a quite wonderfully buoyant one.”
“He is so very, very good,” murmured the other little sister. “Always cheerful, always thinking of others, never of himself, dear fellow.”