Marsten, with a faint motion of his head, signified his assent, and Sartwell, with some relief, placed it in his pocket.
“Now, my lad, you must hurry up and get well. There will be stirring times at the works, and I shall need the best help I can get. I’m depending on you to be my assistant, you know.”
The young man’s eyelids quivered for a moment, then closed over his eyes. Two tears stole out from the corners and rolled down his cheeks. His throat rose and fell.
“I’m a bit shattered,” he whispered at last. “I’m not quite myself——but, I thank you.”
“That’s all right, my boy. Here’s a young person who can talk to you more like a nurse than I can. I must see about your having a private room and all the comforts of the place while you are here.”
Edna took his hand when her father had left the room. Marsten looked up at her, standing there beside him.
“It came to the same——in the end——didn’t it?” he said, with a faint, wavering smile.
For answer she bent over him and kissed him softly on the lips.