was too honest, too simple, for the task. Alice watched her intently, detecting at once, with the invalid's quickened sensibility, first the repressed excitement, then the false note.
"Are you going there?" she asked in the same slow, expressionless way.
"Oh, yes! later—that is, I must go first—elsewhere. Now, Alice, I'll write a line every day, and I've arranged with Mrs. Percy to—"
"I know what it is! I know just what it is!" suddenly exclaimed Alice excitedly, dragging herself up on the pillows. Mrs. Ennis's heart gave a bound, and then seemed to stop.
"It's our ship—it has come! Our ship has come in!" She sat erect, with dilated eyes looking ahead. Mrs. Ennis threw herself on her knees, with her arms about the girl, and buried her face.
"I'd be so glad if I could only feel anything; but you know I'm glad, don't you, 'way down under it all? I can see it, I can see it! You said it would be this way; I remember every word: First the tiny streamer of smoke 'way down the bay—it's not like other smoke, somehow; we can always tell it, can't we? And the tugs and the other things get out of the way, don't they?" and she laughed a little. "And then she comes in sight, so slowly, just creeping along, and she looks so dingy and tired, somehow, from the long, long way she's come. And then we can see the long, homeward-bound pennant fluttering, and the big black bunches of sailors in the front, and the little dark knots of officers at the back, and each one looks exactly like the one—the one we—" She stopped, and then, with a terrible cry, she threw herself forward on the bed, and broke into wild, heartrending sobs.
Mrs. Ennis struggled to her feet and ran to the door, which she found ajar, and Dr. Knutt standing there smiling. He drew her outside, shut the door, and shook her hand till it ached.
"Nothing could be better! I'm simply delighted. I knew you'd find a way. We'll have her as right as a trivet in two weeks—you'll see. Trust me a little and nature a great deal. I tell you this has saved her life. Haven't you got to plow before new seeds are sown? Well! Now you run away, and I'll send old Maggie in to her. All she needs is a little Irish babying. Confound these sailors, anyhow, for the way they have with the womenkind!" he muttered to himself when alone.
As the express train went slowly into the station at Jersey City, Mrs. Ennis exclaimed:
"Don't miss a single face, Preston!"
"Did you say a beard, mamma? I've forgotten. Maybe I won't know him; I'm so sorry," and the boy's voice broke.
"The last letter said no beard. Never mind, dear; mamma isn't at all sure she'll know him herself," and she laughed excitedly.
The train stopped, and they got out, but no one greeted them. They stood out of the line of people hurrying towards the ferries. Mrs. Ennis gripped Preston's hand and cried to him pitifully:
"Oh, my boy! do you think anything can be wrong?"
"It's all right, I'm just as sure as sure can be," the little man kept saying bravely, swallowing the rising lumps in his throat. Then a deep voice behind them said:
"Isn't this Mrs. Ennis—the wife of Surgeon Ennis of the—"
"Yes, yes; what is it? Why can't you speak?" she cried, turning fiercely. She was white to the lips, and moisture stood out on her face in beads.
"Why, mamma, it's Frohman!" exclaimed Preston, recognizing his old friend, the ship's apothecary, who said quickly:
"Dr. Ennis is perfectly well. He was detained on board, and told me to give you this," handing her a note, which she tore open, reading hungrily the hastily penciled lines:
"My darling, I'm so sorry not to meet you! You cannot feel it more than I do. The navigator is ill—there's a consultation—I had to be here. Think of his wife, and have courage for a few hours more. Seven o'clock, sure! Frohman will look after you. Go to the Gramercy Park House. Get nice rooms. Don't stint yourself. Saved a pile on the home run. Love to my babies, and God bless you—the best, bravest, truest, bonniest wife in the world!"
