The day before he started, Helena was full of maternal preoccupations.
The travelling-bag that she had begun to pack for herself--for so
different a journey!--had to be emptied of its feminine possessions,
and David's little belongings stowed in their place. David himself had
views about this packing; he kept bringing one thing or another--his
rubber boots, a cocoon, a large lump of slag honeycombed with air-
holes; would she please put them into the bag?
"Why, but darling, you will be back again on Saturday," she consoled
him, as each treasure was rejected.--("Suppose he was not coming
back! How should I feel?") He was to spend the night before the journey at the Rectory, and after
supper Helena went down the hill with him. "I wish I hadn't consented
to it," she said to herself; "do you like to go and leave me, David?"
she pleaded.
And David jumping along at her side, said joyously, "Yes, ma'am."
At the Rectory he pushed the door open and bounded in ahead of her,
"I'm here!"
Dr. Lavendar put down his Spirit of Missions, and looked over his
spectacles. "You don't say so! And you're here, too, Mrs. Richie?
Come in!"
Helena, hesitating in the hall, said she had only come to leave David.
But Dr. Lavendar would not listen to that.
"Sit down! Sit down!" he commanded genially.
David, entirely at home, squatted at once upon the rug beside Danny.
"Dr. Lavendar," she said, "you'll bring him back to me on Saturday?"
"Unless I steal him for myself," said Dr. Lavendar, twinkling at
David, who twinkled back, cozily understanding.
Helena stooped over him and kissed him; then took one of his reluctant
hands from its clasp about his knees and held it, patting it, and once
furtively kissing it, "Good-by, David. Saturday you'll be at home
again."
The child's face fell. His sigh was not personal; it only meant the
temporariness of all human happiness. Staring into the fire in sudden
melancholy, he said, "'By." But the next minute he sparkled into
excited joy, and jumped up to hang about her neck and whisper that in
Philadelphia he was going to buy a false-face for a present for Dr.
Lavendar; "or else a jew's-harp. He'll give it to me afterwards; and I
think I want a jew's-harp the most," he explained.
"David," Helena said in a whisper, putting her cheek down against his,
"Oh, David, won't you please, give me--'forty kisses'? I'm so--
lonely."