Only two of his children were quite unhurt; these were Barbara (and she
found quite enough occupation in waiting on her twin sister) and little
Hugh, who sometimes wandered about after his father almost as
disconsolate as himself, and sometimes helped to amuse Bertram, showing
him pictures, while Miss Christie told him tales. Master Bertram
Mortimer, having reached the ripe age of nine years, had come to the
conclusion that it was _muffish_--like a _cad_, like a girl--to cry. So
when his broken arm and other grievances got beyond his power of
endurance, he used to call out instead, while his tender-hearted little
brother did the crying for him, stuffing his bright head into the
pillows and sobbing as if his heart would break.
On one of these occasions John drew the child away and took him
downstairs. "I'm crying about Janie too," he said, creeping into his
father's arms to be consoled, and not knowing the comfort this touch of
natural sorrow had imparted to an over-strained heart.
The weather was unusually hot for the time of year, the doors and
windows stood open, so that John could pass about as he pleased; he
judged by the tone of voice in which each one spoke whether things were
going well or not.
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