Bolton," she answered in a constrained
voice. "I only wish he had said something more; we had a terrible
day. Uncle Peter was nearly crazy about you; he telegraphed and
telegraphed, but we could get no answer. That's why it was such a
relief to find you at the station."
But the bat had not finished banging his head against the wall.
"Then I did do some good by going?" he asked earnestly.
"Oh, indeed you did." If he did not care whether she had been hurt
or not, even in his delirium, she was not going to betray herself.
"It was the first time anybody had seen Uncle Peter smile; he was
wretched all day. He loves you very dearly, Mr. Breen."
Jack's hand dropped so suddenly to his side that the pain made him
tighten his lips. For a moment he did not answer.
"Then it was only Uncle Peter who was anxious, was it? I am glad
he loves me. I love him, too," he said at last in a perfunctory
tone--"he's been everything to me."
"And you have been everything to him." She determined to change
the subject now. He told me only--well,--two days ago--that you
had made him ten years younger.
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