Silverthorns

Claudia did so, feeling herself a sort of hypocrite for not at once telling all she knew. To her great relief she came upon a pocket-handkerchief marked “Waldron,” and a neat little memorandum-book, for poor Jerry was the most methodical of boys, with “Gervais Waldron, 19, Norfolk Terrace, Wortherham” on the first page.

“Aunt Mildred,” she said quietly, “it is one of the Waldrons – the lawyer’s children, you know. His sister is at school with me.”

Lady Mildred started, and made some little exclamation under her breath which Claudia did not catch.

“He is coming round nicely, my lady,” said Mrs Ball. “The doctor will think he need not have been fetched,” for a groom had already been sent to a village much nearer than Wortherham, where a doctor was to be found.

“It is better to let him see the boy,” said Lady Mildred. “He looks such a delicate child,” she added, speaking in a low voice, for Jerry was now opening his eyes, and showing signs of coming to life in every sense of the word.

“Shall we send to let his people know that he is safe?” said Claudia.

“I suppose so,” said Lady Mildred. “Tell Ball to send the groom on to Wortherham as soon as he comes back from Crowby. And – ”

“Would it do for me to write a note? I could write it to the sister I know?” asked Claudia.

Lady Mildred hesitated.

“Yes,” she replied; “I dare say you might.”

“And, my lady,” said Mrs Ball, “I’ll have the young gentleman carried up-stairs and put to bed. It will be just as well for him to find himself there when he quite wakes up, as it were.”

Lady Mildred stooped again and looked at the boy closely. His eyes were closed. She saw nothing that struck her in the little thin pale face, for it was the blue eyes that were its one beauty – the very blue eyes characteristic of the Osberts.

“Very well. Come to the drawing-room, Claudia, and write the note. I should think the groom will be back directly. I will see the child again after the doctor has been.”

“Aunt Mildred is really kind,” thought Claudia. But she had to exercise considerable self-control during the writing of the note. She would have made it friendly and hearty in tone, but this did not suit Lady Mildred’s ideas at all, and it was a rather stiff and formal production when finished, ending with a half-permission, half-invitation to the boy’s parents to come and see him the next morning.

“My aunt feels sure the doctor will wish your brother to stay in bed all to-morrow,” wrote Claudia, “and he will be taken every care of. But should Mr and Mrs Waldron feel uneasy, she begs them not to hesitate to come to see him for themselves.”

The doctor came, and confirmed the good account of the patient which Mrs Ball had already sent down-stairs.

“He will take no harm I fancy,” he said. “But he is evidently a delicate child, and he has had a narrow escape. He would have been dead long before morning.”

“Does he seem frightened?” asked Lady Mildred.

“No,” the doctor replied. “I don’t think his nerves have suffered. He is still sleepy and confused, and of course he feels sore and aching. But he can remember nothing very distinctly, I fancy.”

“I will go up and see him,” said Lady Mildred. “It must be past dinner-time, Claudia. This affair has made the servants forget everything.”

The doctor took his leave, promising to look in again the next morning. Lady Mildred went up to the chintz room and Claudia ran after her.

“Mayn’t I come in and see him too, aunt,” she said; “I’d like to see him looking better. He did look so dreadful when they first brought him in,” and she gave a little shudder.

Jerry was looking very far from dreadful by this time; he was half-sitting up in bed, with more colour than usual on his face, his eyes very bright and blue. Lady Mildred’s face changed as she looked at him.

“I hope you are feeling better, my dear,” she said quietly. “The doctor is sure you will be quite well to-morrow.”

“Yes, thank you,” said Jerry. “I’m nearly quite well now, I think, except that I’m aching rather. If you please,” and he hesitated, “you don’t think I could go home to-night? I don’t know what o’clock it is – it isn’t the middle of the night, is it? Oh,” as Claudia just then came forward, “I – ”

“This is my niece,” said Lady Mildred. “She was anxious to know how you were.”

Gervais looked up at Claudia, and a glance of understanding passed like lightning between them.

“I’m all right, thank you,” he said to her.

“How was it?” said Claudia. “Did you lose your way in the snow?”

“I suppose so,” said Jerry. “I was going along the road past the ‘Jolly Thrashers’ the last thing I remember. I thought I should have met our dog-cart, but I didn’t, and I walked on as fast as I could, but it snowed dreadfully heavily, and I got so tired I had to rest a little. I’m lame, you know,” he added, flushing a little. “I knew one should never go to sleep in the snow, and I only meant to rest a minute. But I suppose I went to sleep – I remember a very nice feeling coming over me, and then I don’t remember anything else.”

“Ah,” said Lady Mildred. “You have had a narrow escape, my dear.”

“I’m very sorry to have given you so much trouble,” Jerry went on penitently. “But if I could go home – they’ll all be so frightened.”

“Your going home to-night is out of the question, my dear,” said Lady Mildred; “but we have already sent a groom to tell your family that you are quite safe.”

“Thank you very much. I’m very sorry to have given you so much trouble,” Jerry repeated.

“Well, then, take care to give no one any more, by getting well as quickly as ever you can,” said Lady Mildred kindly. “Try to go to sleep, so that you may wake quite well in the morning. Good night, my dear.”

“Good night, Lady Mildred,” said the boy.

But Claudia, who had already learnt to know his face and its expressions, detected an uneasy look, and when her aunt had left the room she lingered a moment behind.

“Gervais,” she said, – “I know your name, you see – are you uncomfortable? Is there anything the matter – anything to do with what we were speaking of this afternoon?”

Jerry looked up wistfully.

“No,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll never tell any one – will you?”

“Oh, no; I will keep my promise exactly; and whenever I can do so without betraying you in the least, I will let Charlotte know that I am not going to try for the prize.”

“Thank you, oh, thank you so very much,” said Jerry fervently. “I know you will do it nicely.”

“It may be quite easy,” Claudia went on. “I am not sure but that we shall be going away very soon, and that I couldn’t try for it even if I wanted,” and she smiled a half-sad little smile.

“But I shall always know how good you were,” said Jerry, as if that should console her for all other misapprehension.

Claudia smiled again.

“Thank you,” she said; “and good night.”

But Jerry still fidgeted about.

“I am afraid I can’t go to sleep,” he said; “I am so aching all over, and it seems so strange. Isn’t this the chintz room?”

“Yes,” said Claudia, a little surprised. “How did you know it?”

“Oh, I – I heard the name,” he said. “Is it far away from everybody else’s rooms?”