"Elfie," said Mr. Carleton, as soon as he could, "I want you to go down stairs with me; so dry those eyes, or my mother will be asking all sorts of difficult questions."
Happiness is a quick restorative. Elfie was soon ready to go where he would.
They found Mrs. Carleton fortunately wrapped up in a new novel, some distance apart from the other persons in the cabin. The novel was immediately laid aside to take Fleda on her lap, and praise Guy's nursing.
"But she looks more like a wax figure yet than anything else; don't she, Guy?"
"Not like any that ever I saw," said Mr. Carleton, gravely. "Hardly substantial enough. Mother, I have come to tell you I am ashamed of myself for having given you such cause of offence yesterday."
Mrs. Carleton's quick look, as she laid her hand on her son's arm, said sufficiently well that she would have excused him from making any apology, rather than have him humble himself in the presence of a third person.
"Fleda heard me yesterday," said he; "it was right she should hear me to-day."
"Then, my dear Guy," said his mother, with a secret eagerness which she did not allow to appear, "if I may make a condition for my forgiveness, which you had before you asked for it, will you grant me one favour?"
"Certainly, mother, if I can."
"You promise me?"