"Can one of you come over?" wrote the young husband. "She is already out of danger, but longing to see her mother or one of you. She is worrying about the baby"—a child of a few months old—"and wishing for nurse."
We looked at each other.
"Nurse must go at once," said my uncle to me, as the eldest of the party. Perhaps I should here say that I am a widow, though not old, and with no close ties or responsibilities. "But for your aunt it is impossible."
"Quite so," I agreed. For she was at the moment painfully lamed by rheumatism.
"And the other girls are almost too young at such a crisis," my uncle continued. "Would you, Charlotte——" and he hesitated. "It would be such a comfort to have personal news of her."
"Of course I will go," I said. "Nurse and I can start at once. I will leave her there, and return alone, to give you, I have no doubt, better news of poor Francie."
He was full of gratitude. So were they all.
"Don't hurry back to-night," said my uncle. "Stay till—till Monday if you like." But I could not promise. I knew they would be glad of news at once, and in a small house like my cousin's, at such a time, an inmate the more might be inconvenient.
"I will try to return to-night," I said. And as I sprang into the carriage I added: "Send to Moore to meet the last train, unless I telegraph to the contrary."
My uncle nodded; the boys called after me, "All right;" the old butler bowed assent, and I was satisfied.