“Yes. She’s ill. Asks if you can come on and look after the kiddies.”
“Of course.” She swayed a little. “Hold on to me a minute, Baldy. It takes my breath away.”
“You mustn’t be scared, old girl.”
“I’ll be all right in ... a minute....”
His arms were tight about her. “It seems as if I should go, too, Janey.”
“But you can’t. I’ll get things ready and ride in with you in the morning. I’ll pack my trunk if you’ll bring it down from the attic. I can sleep on the train to-morrow.”
And when he had brought it she made him go back to bed. The house was very still. Merrymaid, waked by the unusual excitement, came up-stairs and sat, round-eyed, by Jane, watching her fold her scant wardrobe and purring a song of consolation. Jane found time now and then to stop and smooth the sleek head, and once she picked Merrymaid up in her arms, and the tears dripped on the old cat’s fur.
Philomel sang very early the next morning. It was Baldy who made the coffee, and who telephoned Sophy and the Follettes. Mrs. Follette insisted that Baldy should stay at Castle Manor in Jane’s absence. “It will do Evans good, and we’d love to have him.”
So that was settled. And Evans came over while the young people were breakfasting.
“Don’t worry about anything,” he said. “Baldy and I will look after the chickens—and take the little cats over to Castle Manor. I’ll wrap them all in cotton wool rather than have anything happen to them. So don’t worry.”