In the Valley of the Shadow | Page 4

Belden queried.
"Oh, it's her calm way and her voice. You want to do everything she says. Norah says she's sure Mrs. Moore will get well now, with her to take care of her. By George, Will, if she pulls Caddy through it'll be worth her while, I tell you."
"Oh, they always do their best. And they all have that habit, I fancy. It's part of the training."
Peter looked up surprised.
"You don't like her, eh?"
"How absurd. I never considered her particularly. I don't care for masculine, dictatorial women, on general principles--"
"Oh, nonsense! I tell you you've taken a grudge against her, and you want to get rid of it as soon as possible."
"I suppose I have a right to my opinion," Belden began hotly, but a wave of remorse surged over him at sight of the other man's drawn, nervous face.
"Any one would think we had nothing to do but scrap over a trained nurse," he said lightly. "She's all you say, I haven't a doubt, old man, and if she pulls Caddy through, I'll sing her praises louder than any of you."
They sat in silence. A burst of laughter from the kitchen-garden startled them, and Belden started up as if to check it.
"Don't stop 'em--it's the servants. Why shouldn't they laugh?" said Peter quietly. "I've been thinking it all over. If Caddy--if--if she doesn't get well, she doesn't want a lot of black and all that. It's bad for the children. And she said the children oughtn't to grow up without a mother--think of that!"
"I guess that's all right," said Belden sadly. "Look at my boy there!"
A slender, stoop-shouldered lad slouched by the long hall-window, his hands in his pockets, an unlighted cigarette in his mouth.
"Well, well, we all have our load!" Peter's mood had changed utterly, to the other's astonishment. He seemed gentler, more thoughtful, controlled beyond belief.
"I don't see why we shouldn't smoke," he added, and they lighted cigars.
"You see, we talked it all over," he said, half to himself, "and she's so reasonable and calm, herself.... She says Margaret's going to grow up just like her. That's a comfort.. And there's the boy."
Suddenly the cigar dropped from his lips to the floor.
"Good God, Belden!" he shouted, "I kept thinking she'd be here, too! I forgot--I--Oh, what rot! Do you think I'll stand it? Do you think I'll put up with it? Why didn't Hitchcock know before? It was his business to know! I tell you I'll ruin that man if it takes every dollar I've got!"
Belden stared at him helplessly. Was this Peter, this red-faced, scowling menace? As he watched him silently the nurse came in from the greenhouse.
"Mrs. Moore wants to say good night to you, Mr. Moore," she said, her deep, clear voice echoing strangely after the hoarse passion of Peter's rage. "I found these all picked--were you going to take them to her?"
Peter drew a deep breath and put out a shaking hand for the flowers.
"I don't know what's the matter with me, Will--I talk like a fool," he half whispered. "I can't get used to this damned see-saw. First I'm all ready for it, and then I'm nearly wild. And so it goes--up and down, up and down."
"How is she? Is it all settled for to-morrow? Hitchcock said that perhaps--"
"Mrs. Moore is doing very well--really very well. She was a little excited when Mrs. Wylie was with her, but she is nicely sleepy now. I think it will be better to stay only a moment. She will get a good night's rest to-night, it is so cool. The weather is on our side."
She smiled into his eyes and nodded gravely. He brightened and squared his shoulders. As he went quickly up the stairs, Belden stopped the woman.
"Tell me," he said authoritatively, "how is my sister, really? What do you consider her chance?"
She looked him easily in the eyes. "It is impossible to say," she returned gravely. "Your sister is a very brave, self-possessed woman, and seems to have a good constitution. That is, of course, half the battle. But her case is very complicated, and until the operation, no one can tell. You may have every confidence in Dr. Jameson. He is a magnificent surgeon."
Before her non-committal eyes his own fell baffled. He was more irritated than he cared to own. Could she not see that he was prepared for anything, that his self-control was as great as her own? She treated him like a child; those professional reserves, necessary, doubtless, in the case of Peter and his excitable sister, were wasted on him. Why could she not see it?
"I am quite aware of Dr. Jameson's skill," he said coldly, "but I had hoped that you would find yourself able to break through the professional attitude sufficiently to give me your real opinion,