"You'll miss your dinner, better drink this," he urged.
She drank the wine and smiled faintly at him.
"Can't I go with you?" he asked again. "Maybe you'll need me."
"I'll see—but now I want you to look after things here. You'll have to be the man of the house."
A pang shot through her at those words, she frowned and snapped her bag shut. She was ready. John, who had not uttered a word, took her hand as they went downstairs. His fingers were cold and trembling.
"Don't you worry," she said sharply. "I don't believe it's serious. I'll telegraph Jim tomorrow. Now you all be good, get your lessons, go to bed on time—and, Jim, you better go tell your grandfather—"
They all swarmed after her to the carriage. The cook came too, calling:
"We get along all right, Mrs. Carlin, don't worry about us—we do everything we can, Anna and me—"
The three boys kissed her, Jim the last, putting a manly arm around her; she thought how grave and strong his young face looked. Lavery stepped into the carriage, the coachman whipped up his horses; they just made the train.