Chapter X: Good News

WHEN Theodore awoke on the following morning, Jack was still sleeping peacefully by his side, though the sun was shining high in the sky, and it was past nine o'clock. Jane hurried her little master to his own room, and bade him dress as quickly as he could. Her face was pale and tired with watching; indeed, she felt almost worn out, and was consequently rather silent, which fact alarmed Theodore, who feared his stepbrother's life might be still in danger.

"Do you think Jack is really and truly better?" he questioned eagerly, his face full of anxiety.

"Yes, yes," Jane assured him. "Don't you worry, Master Theodore; God is going to let the dear lamb stay with us a bit longer. He had a sharp time yesterday, and you mustn't be surprised or alarmed because he didn't wake up just now. Sleep will do him more good than anything, and you shall know the minute he awakes how he is. Make haste, like a good boy! You and master will have breakfast alone this morning, for the mistress is going to her own room for a rest."

When Theodore joined his father in the breakfast-room, he had regained his usual good spirits. He could not realise that it was so short a while since the episode of the burnt hay-rick; for Jack's dangerous attack of illness, and the anxiety he had endured on his stepbrother's account, had made him forget all else. The sight of his father's face, however, reminded him forcibly of the last occasion on which they had held a conversation alone together; and the little boy met Mr. Barton's gaze a trifle uneasily.

"So you and I are to breakfast by ourselves this morning," Mr. Barton remarked pleasantly, as Theodore took his place opposite to him at the table. "Jack is still asleep, I hear."

"Yes," Theodore responded, in a subdued tone; "Jane says sleep will do him more good than anything. But he is really better, isn't he, father?"

"Yes; there is no doubt about that, I am glad to say."

Mr. Barton spoke brightly and cheerfully, and continued to converse with his little son without once referring to Tom Blake or the burnt hay-rick. Theodore understood that no more was to be said on that subject, and his spirits, ever elastic, rose accordingly. He made an excellent breakfast, and talked and laughed without restraint.

"You appear very fond of Jack," Mr. Barton said at length, after a pause in the conversation.

"Yes," Theodore acknowledged, "I am. I thought I shouldn't be. I quite meant to hate him, but I don't! Aunt Pen said he would put my nose out of joint. He hasn't; but I shouldn't care if he had!"

"What made Aunt Penelope say that?" Mr. Barton asked, with a slight frown.

"Oh, I'm sure I don't know! Every one said it! The servants; Jane—every one!"

"It was very wrong of every one, then. I am glad people did not succeed in putting you against Jack; for it is a great pleasure to me to see you boys good friends. I only wish something could be done to cure the poor little lad. It is a terrible grief to his mother that he is such an invalid."

"Can't the great London doctor make him well?" Theodore asked. "He's very clever, isn't he?"

"Yes, I believe he is. I have asked him to come down again next week to see Jack. He said something about different treatment; but the poor child was too ill yesterday to think of that. However, I shall hear what he has to say after he has seen Jack again. I should give a great deal if he could effect a cure."

"Oh, father!" Theodore cried excitedly, "do you think he might be able to make Jack really well—well enough to walk about, I mean?"

"I don't know, my boy. I hardly dare indulge in such a bright hope as that, for Jack's case has been discussed by many doctors, who have thought it hopeless; but this one certainly did say something which led me to understand he would like to take Jack in hand himself. Don't say anything about it at present; more especially, don't mention it to Jack or his mother."

"Oh, I promise I won't! Oh, father," and as Theodore spoke his face glowed with happiness at the very thought of Jack being made better, "if Jack got well I don't know what I should feel! Think what good times we should have together! I would teach him to ride. I would lend him Jigger; and you know he's a very quiet, good-tempered pony."

"Don't let your imagination run away with you, Theodore. It may be Jack will always be a helpless invalid; if so, that is all the more reason why you should be kind to him, poor little boy!"

"I shall ask God to make him well," Theodore declared earnestly. "I prayed to God yesterday to take away Jack's pain, and He did."

During the days which followed, Theodore was tempted many times to repeat what his father had told him about the London doctor; but, mindful of his promise, he refrained, though every one could see that he was in a great state of excitement about something.

Although Jack was much pulled down after his severe attack of illness, he was slowly yet surely regaining his usual amount of strength, and his mother's pale face grew less anxious as she saw that this was so. She was considerably surprised when her husband informed her he had again sent for the famous London doctor to see her little son, and enquired tremulously if he considered him worse. But being reassured on that point, she was quite satisfied, and put no further questions.

When she went upstairs to Jack's room to inform him that a visitor was coming to see him, she found the two boys together. Jack had not yet been allowed to leave his bed to be dressed; but he lay posted up comfortably with pillows, holding an animated conversation with Theodore, who sat astride the footboard of the bed. He sprang off as his stepmother entered the room, and stood looking a little embarrassed, as he often did in her presence.

She advanced to the bed, and sat down on a chair, glancing smilingly from one boy to the other.

"You seem very merry," she said. "I hope I have not come to disturb you?"

"Oh, no, mother!" Jack answered promptly, looking at her brightly and lovingly. "Theodore was telling me about an adventure he had yesterday. May I tell mother, Theo?"

"If you like," Theodore replied, a trifle ungraciously.

"He was chased by a big calf," Jack said, with a laugh. "He thought it was a bull, and he was so frightened that he ran into the stream at the bottom of the lower meadow!"

"It was a yearling," Theodore explained hurriedly. "I heard it bellow, and I didn't stop to look around, but ran as fast as ever I could, without looking where I was going. Father saw me, and called to me to stop."

"He was in the stream then," Jack continued, "and when he turned around he saw he had been running away from a yearling with little horns about half an inch long. It was only playful, not in the least savage."

"But I could not tell that; father said so afterwards. You should have heard it bellow. Such a tremendous voice it had—enough to scare any one. I should not have said anything about it if father had not seen me," Theodore said, growing red, and looking decidedly vexed as he remembered how his father had laughed at him for being afraid of a big calf.

"Well, I am sure you acted as I should have done under the circumstances," Mrs. Barton told him candidly. "I am certain I should have run away, though perhaps I might have looked to see where I was going. Did you get very wet?"

"Yes. The water was nearly up to my knees. Jane was cross when she found out how wet my shoes and stockings were. If you have come to sit with Jack, I think I'll be off."

"Oh, don't go because I've come!" she exclaimed quickly; "I am not going to remain long. I only want to tell you, Jack," she said, turning to her little son, "that the doctor from London, who saw you when you were so ill the other day, is coming down to see you again."

Jack looked surprised at hearing this; whilst Theodore grew red, and darted a shrewd glance at his stepmother to see how much she knew.

"When is he coming?" Jack enquired.

"To-morrow, my dear."

"I think I'm sorry," the little invalid said, with a sigh. "I want to be left alone. I don't want to be pulled about any more. Doctors hurt my back so much, though of course I know they don't mean to. I do wish you'd ask father not to let the London doctor come again."

"Oh, Jack!" Theodore cried impetuously. "Don't say that! You must see him—indeed you must! Perhaps he'll be able to make you better!"

Jack shook his head sadly, for he did not think that the least likely, nor did his mother, for that matter; but she explained that an arrangement had been made for the London doctor to visit him on the following day, and the plan could not be altered now.

"Very well," Jack said, with an air of resignation, "but I hope he won't stay long. It's very kind of father to send for him, but no one can make me better."

"God can," Theodore interposed eagerly; "you know, Jack, I've heard you say that often!"

"Oh, yes! but—"

"Perhaps He'll teach the London doctor how to cure you," Theodore proceeded hurriedly, "at any rate I mean to ask Him!"

Jack smiled, and cast a grateful, loving glance at his stepbrother, whilst Mrs. Barton looked from one to the other with a puzzled expression in her eyes. She did not understand Theodore's manner; and for a moment the suspicion crossed her mind that he knew more about the doctor's expected visit than he meant to say. But, on reflection, she thought that a very unlikely idea, and told herself that it was only his love and anxiety for Jack that made him so eager and excited.

The next day found Theodore far too restless to await patiently the result of the doctor's visit. He wandered aimlessly about the house and grounds, unable to settle to anything.

"I don't know what's come to him," Jane said to Mrs. Barton; "he's most unlike himself. It seems to me he has something on his mind. I hope he has not been in mischief again."

"I hope not," Mrs. Barton responded seriously.

She forgot all about Theodore when the London doctor arrived and in company with the village practitioner made a careful examination of the little invalid. Afterwards, when the doctors had gone downstairs, and were shut in the library together, she left Jack in Jane's care, and joined her husband in the drawing-room.

As soon as Theodore, who was in his own bedroom, heard his stepmother follow the others downstairs, he went in to see Jack, and found him lying back in bed, looking pale and weary. Theodore commenced to ply him with questions.

"What did the London doctor say? Did he hurt you much?"

"No, not much," Jack responded. "He was very gentle, and he asked me how I should like to be a patient of his. I told him I didn't think it was worth while his bothering about me, because I knew he couldn't cure me."

"But how do you know he can't? Oh, Jack, supposing he could, what would you say then?"

"It's no good thinking, Theo!"

"I wouldn't worry Master Jack with too much talking," Jane interposed at this point; "can't you see he's looking very tired, Master Theodore?"

"Oh! indeed he doesn't worry me! He never does!" Jack cried.

"You don't know anything about it!" Theodore exclaimed rudely, turning an indignant glance upon Jane; "you needn't interfere!"

"Theodore!"

Jack's voice was full of gentle reproach. The anger died from Theodore's face, and he muttered something under his breath about being sorry, which Jane thought it wisest to take as an apology. At that moment the door opened, and Mrs. Barton entered with flushed cheeks and glistening eyes.

"Oh, Jack, my darling!" she said tenderly, as she bent over her little son, "I have such news for you—such wonderful news!"

Jack put his arms around her neck, and drew her face down to his.

"Tell me," he whispered.

And then she told him that the great London doctor thought that in time he might be cured, and even be able to walk and run about like other little boys.

For several minutes Jack seemed incapable of grasping the meaning of her words; but when at last he did understand his mother's news, he uttered a little gasping cry of joy, and burst into a flood of tears.

"Oh, Jack!" Theodore exclaimed, "aren't you glad? I thought you wanted to get well, and I prayed to God to teach the London doctor how to make you better. Oh, don't cry, old fellow! there's nothing to cry about."

"It's because I'm so glad. I—I can't help it," Jack sobbed. "Oh, Theo, to think that perhaps I may be going to get well after all!"

"Hurrah!" cried Theodore, restraining his high spirits no longer, but capering around the room in a state of wild excitement. "Won't we have fine times together! Won't we have fun! Won't—"

But his words came to an abrupt conclusion, for Jane, fearful lest his behaviour might have an ill effect on the little invalid, caught him by the shoulder, and whisked him out of the room before he had time to realise her intention. He went downstairs, and spread the good news amongst the servants, and then hurried into the garden in search of John Bawdon, certain that in him he would find a ready sympathiser in his joy.