“That is all for to-night’s lesson,” said her aunt. “It is nearly your bedtime. I will walk home with you.”
[Illustration: Took up the ball of yarn.]
THE minute Mary Frances saw her mother she knew that something was wrong, for she looked so white and worried. In her hand was a yellow envelope.
“A telegram!” exclaimed Mary Frances. “Mother dear, is—is it—about father?”
“Oh, Mary Frances,” said her mother. “I am so thankful to see you and Aunt Maria! I was just looking for Billy to send word for you to come.”
“Do sit down, child,” said Aunt Maria, “and tell us all about it. Mary Frances, bring your mother a glass of water, and here—here is my bottle of smelling salts.”
“Your father has been hurt in a railroad accident, my dear,” she said. “Your mother and I must start to him immediately. I will go pack my bag. You can help your mother get ready. I shall be back in a very short time. Billy will carry our bags to the train. Your mother is feeling better, or I would not leave you. Good-bye.”
And without any more ado the old lady was gone.
Mary Frances put her arms around her mother’s neck.
“Dear little girl,” said her mother. “You will be brave and womanly, I know.”
“Yes, mother, I will!” said Mary Frances. “I will help you in every way I can. That is the best way of helping father. Come on upstairs, dear, and let me help you get ready to go to him. Do you feel able to go?”
“It is the very thing I want to do most of all. I am glad that Aunt Maria is going with me, though. I know I shall find her a wonderful help.”
Mary Frances packed her mother’s suitcase, and fastened her dress, and buttoned her shoes, and put her hat and veil on. “Just as if I were your little girl,” said her mother. “What a darling comfort you are, my dear!”
Billy and Mary Frances went to the station with their mother and aunt. Billy carried their luggage and bought their tickets. “No grown man could have done better,” said his mother; and even Aunt Maria praised him.
“Now, children,” said their mother, giving them their last directions, “Katie will be home about ten o’clock. You had better wait up for her. Poor, faithful soul, she will be as grieved as any of us about the sad news.”
“But it isn’t such sad news as it might be, mother,” said Billy. “Father will soon be well, we hope.”