“All well, Paul! Any news?”
“Good news, Molly!” Molly dropped all the freshly ironed finery and leaned against the wall for support. “A cablegram from Spain! Kent was landed there by the German submarine.”
“Kent! Are you sure?”
“As sure as shootin’! Let me read it to you—‘Safe—well, Kent.’ Tell Mother as soon as you can, Molly, but go easy with it. Good news might knock her out as much as bad news. I’ll be out with John as fast as his tin Lizzie can buzz us.”
“Safe! Kent alive and well!”
Molly’s knees were trembling so she could hardly get to her mother’s room, where that good lady had been pretending to eat her breakfast in bed. Old Shep, standing by her bedside, had a suspiciously greasy expression around his mouth and was very busy licking his lips, which imparted the information to the knowing Molly that her mother’s dainty breakfast had disappeared to a spot to which it was not destined by the two anxious cooks, Molly and Caroline.
“Molly, what is it? I heard the ’phone ring. Was it Paul?”
“Yes, Mother! Good news!”
Mrs. Brown closed her eyes and lay back on her pillows, looking so pale that Molly was scared. How fragile the good lady was! Her profile was more cameo-like than ever. These few weeks of waiting, in spite of the brave front she had shown to the world, had told on her. Could she stand good news any better than she could bad?
“Kent?” she murmured faintly.