Helena went to the open doorway, and gazed blankly out into Main
Street. She might as well go home; he wasn't going to telegraph. She
told herself that he was out of town, and had not received her
despatch. But her explanation was not convincing; if he was away, the
despatch would have been forwarded to him. It must be that as he was
coming on Saturday, he had not thought it worth while to telegraph.
She wandered aimlessly out into the hot street--there was no use
waiting any longer; and as for meeting David, he had gone home long
ago.
As she went up the street, Dr. Lavendar stopped her. He had been told
that the news of the night before did not mean affliction, but Dr.
Lavendar knew that there are worse things than affliction, so he stood
ready to offer comfort if it was needed. But apparently it was not
wanted, and after a minute's pause, he began to speak of his own
affairs: "I've been wondering if you would trust David to me for two
or three days in October."
"David?" she repeated, blankly; her mind was very far away from David.
"I have to go to Philadelphia then;" Dr. Lavendar was really eager;
"and if you will let me take him along--I guess Rose Knight will let
him off--we would have a fine time!"
"Certainly, Dr. Lavendar," she said, courteously. But she thought
quickly, that she and David would not be in Old Chester in October.
However, she could not explain that to Dr. Lavendar. It was easier to
say yes, and be done with it. "Good evening," she added impatiently,
for the old gentleman would have kept her indefinitely, talking about
David.
But as she climbed the hill her mind went out to the child with the
relief of one who in darkness opens a door towards the light. She
found him in the parlor, curled up in a big chair by the window,
looking at a picture-book. He climbed down immediately, and came and
took her hand in his, a demonstration of affection so unusual that she
caught him in her arms and might have cuddled him with the undesired
"forty kisses," if he had not gently moved his head aside. But her
eyes were so blurred with tears of fatigue and Fright she did not
notice the rebuff.
The next twenty-four hours were tense with expectation and fear.
Helena's mind veered almost with every breath: He had not telegraphed
because he had not received her despatch; because he was away from
home; because he was coming on Saturday;--because he was sorry
Frederick was dead...