CHAPTER V

"Are you awake, Jill?"

"Yes," said Jill, lifting her head from the pillow with a start, and speaking in a rather choked voice.

Lill sighed.

"I can't get to sleep," she said, mournfully, "I'm trying hard, because I promised Mr. Brown, but it isn't any use. Do you suppose they've heard anything since we went to bed?"

"I'm sure they haven't," said Jill, with decision. "Signora promised to come and tell us the minute the telegram came. I do wish you would go to sleep, Lill. I'm so afraid you will be ill if you don't, and it would be dreadful to have you ill when Mummy comes home."

Lill began to cry softly.

"Oh, Jill, do you think she ever will come home?" she sobbed. "It's all so dreadful, and I'm so frightened."

"Of course she will," said Jill, in a voice that sounded almost angry in her effort not to break into a sob. "You know what Mr. Brown said about all the telegraph wires being down. It must make Mummy dreadfully unhappy not to be able to send us any news, but she'll come home the very first minute she can."

"But so many people were killed," faltered Lill. "How do you know that Mummy--"

"God wouldn't be so cruel as to let anything terrible happen to our precious Mummy," Jill interrupted sharply. "She's all we have in the world."

"God let father die," said Lill, mournfully, "and He let Uncle George be unkind to Mummy. Jill, do you suppose Uncle George would be sorry if he knew about her being in Sicily?"

"Of course he would," said Jill, with decision. "She's his own sister, and he used to love her very much when she was a little girl."

"I wish he did know," cried Lill, with sudden vehemence. "I wish something dreadful would happen to him--something that would make him just as miserable and unhappy as we are now. Oh, Mummy, Mummy! To think of any one's ever being unkind to you!" And Lill burst into wild, uncontrollable sobs.

Three days had passed since the first news of the terrible earthquake had reached Florence; three long, terrible, interminable days. Every hour the news of the awful catastrophe grew more and more alarming. All over the civilized world newspapers were ringing with the frightful details, and in Italy people seemed almost paralyzed by the shock. Already the king had started for the scene of the calamity, and the brave young queen had accompanied him, ready and anxious to offer her personal assistance to the wounded and the homeless. At the Palonis' the news had been at first received with incredulous amazement, then with ever-increasing horror and belief. Signora Paloni cried all day long, and went to the Duomo to pray whenever she could leave the house, and her husband went about with a look on his jolly, good-humored face that no one had ever seen there before. It had not been possible to keep Lill long in ignorance of at least some of the terrible details. Jill had saved her the first great shock, but grief and anxiety were rapidly telling on her never strong constitution, and Signora Paloni and Jill watched her in hourly increasing terror. There was only one person in the house who appeared to have any influence over the poor child, and that person, strange to say, was the lodger, Mr. Brown. Lill had only known Mr. Brown for a few days, but she had taken an odd fancy to him from the first, and now as the terrible days dragged on, bringing no news from the absent mother, she grew to lean upon him, and cling to him in a kind of despair, as if he, of all the world, were the only one who could help them in their awful anxiety.

"I don't know what makes me feel that way about him," she told Jill, when her sister questioned her on the subject, "but he seems so strong, and--and I feel almost sure he is just as unhappy as we are."

"But he can't be," reasoned Jill. "He never even saw Mummy. He's sorry for us, of course--everybody is sorry--and it was lovely of him to send Fratini to Sicily to try to find out something, but he can't possibly care as much as Signora or Miss Dexter."

But Lill was not convinced.

"I don't know why he cares, but I'm sure he does," she maintained, and Jill, feeling it useless to argue the subject any further, was silent.

And now it was the last night of the old year. In two hours more the new year would begin--a sad new year for many in Italy, whose friends or relatives had perished in the terrible earthquake. The twins had almost forgotten that it was New Year's Eve, but as Jill lay listening to her sister's sobs, trying hard to keep her own grief from having its way, she suddenly remembered, and the recollection added a new pang to her sorrow.

"Lill dear," she said, softly, "do you remember what night it is?"

"No," said Lill, drearily.

"It's New Year's Eve; don't you remember what a good time we had last year?"

"Yes, I do. Mummy let us sit up to see the old year out, and we made taffy, and she read Dickens' 'Christmas Carol' to us."

"Yes, and we made good resolutions for the new year. Don't you think Mummy would be pleased if we made some good resolutions to-night? We could tell her about them when she comes home."

But Lill was not comforted; her sobs were becoming more and more violent every moment. Jill was at her wits' end. The night before Lill had cried herself into a state of hysteria, which had frightened Signora Paloni very much. At the request of Mr. Brown, a doctor had been summoned, who had given the child a powder to quiet her nerves, and gone away looking rather grave.

"Lill dear, don't cry so, please don't," pleaded Jill, clasping her hands in despair. "You'll be ill, and then Mummy will be so worried and unhappy. Don't you want to be happy when she comes back from that dreadful Sicily?"

"She isn't coming back--she'll never come back!" wailed Lill. "She's dead, I know she's dead! Oh, Mummy, Mummy!"

Jill sprang out of bed; she was almost beside herself with terror and distress.

"You've got to stop that, Lill," she cried; "I tell you you've got to! I'm going down to call Signora."

"No, don't, don't, please don't! First she'll scold, and then she'll cry and wring her hands, the way she always does. She isn't any use. I want somebody strong, who doesn't cry and make a fuss--somebody like Mr. Brown."

"Very well, let's go down to Mr. Brown then," said Jill, desperately. "It's only just ten; I don't believe he's gone to bed yet. I'll get your clothes. Never mind about putting everything on; your wrapper and slippers will be enough. We'll only stay a few minutes, and when we come back you'll go right to sleep, won't you?"

"I'll try," promised Lill, humbly. "But won't Signora be very angry if we go down to Mr. Brown?"

"I can't help it if she is," said Jill, thrusting her sister's arms into her wrapper sleeves, for Lill seemed almost too weak and dazed to do anything for herself. "I only know I can't let you go on crying this way, and if you think Mr. Brown can make you stop, why, we've got to go and see him, that's all."

Mr. Brown was alone in his sitting-room. He had been there for hours, scarcely moving, and always gazing into the fire with dim, unseeing eyes. His knee was better, but he was still confined to his room, and the awful inaction of the past three days had caused him to look years older than when the twins had made him their first visit on Christmas afternoon. Twice he had risen, startled by some fancied sound in the street, and limping painfully to the window, had thrown it open, and leaned out listening. But everything was quiet, and in a few moments he had closed his window again, and gone back to his seat by the fire. Tessa, who now attended to all the lodger's wants, had brought him his supper, but he had bidden her take it away again, intimating by signs that he was not hungry, and wished to be left alone.

A distant church clock struck ten. Mr. Brown counted the stroke and heaved a deep sigh. Another day gone, and still no news--no lessening of this awful suspense. A few minutes later there was a timid knock at the door, the handle was gently turned, and Mr. Brown turned in astonishment to see two little figures dressed just alike in blue flannel wrappers, with pig-tails hanging down their backs, come into the room.

Lill ran to him, with a sob, and without uttering a word, he gathered the trembling child in his arms.

"I had to bring her," Jill explained apologetically. "She wouldn't go to sleep, and I was afraid she would cry herself ill again. She said she wanted somebody strong like you."

"May we stay a little while?" whispered Lill, letting her head rest wearily on her friend's shoulder. "You are so big and strong; I don't feel half so frightened when I am with you."

"You may stay just as long as you like," Mr. Brown said, his arms tightening about the little figure as he spoke. "Poor little Lill; it is very hard to be patient, isn't it?"

"Oh, so hard!" answered Lill, with a catch in her voice. "I wish I could be brave like Jill, but I get so terribly frightened when I think about the earthquake, and that Mummy may never come home." A shivering sob finished the sentence.

Mr. Brown said nothing, but held the little girl close in his strong arms, and in a little while the nervous trembling began to subside, and at last ceased altogether. Jill--who had been watching her sister anxiously--looked relieved, and Mr. Brown smiled at her reassuringly, and held out his hand.

"Come here, Jill," he said, and Jill came and knelt on the hearth rug, and Mr. Brown stroked her hair gently. They were all silent for a few minutes; then Lill spoke.

"I feel ever so much better," she said, softly. "I wonder why you always make me feel better. You never cry or make a fuss like Signora. Jill says you can't possibly care about Mummy, because you've never seen her, but I'm sure you do care very much."

"Indeed I do, little girl; I care far more than you dream. This is a terrible time for us all, but we must try to be patient and hope for the best. We ought surely to have some word from Fratini to-morrow."

"And from Mummy, too," said Jill. "I know Mummy will send us some news just as soon as she possibly can. She knows how worried we are."

"I am quite sure she will," said Mr. Brown in a tone of forced cheerfulness, and then they were all silent again until Lill remarked wonderingly--

"I've been trying to think why you should care about Mummy when you've never seen her. I suppose it must be because you're sorry for us. You must have been very unhappy when your little Lilian was drowned, and that makes you more sorry for other unhappy people."

Jill looked uncomfortable, and gave her sister a warning glance, but Lill went on without heeding it.

"You must have loved your little Lilian very much, or you wouldn't have liked me right away, just because my name happened to be Lilian, too."

"I did indeed," said Mr. Brown in a very low voice.

"And when you heard about her being drowned, it must have been just as much of a shock as it was to Jill when she heard about the earthquake. Do you like talking about Lilian?"

"I have not talked to many people about her, but I should not mind talking to you if you would care to hear."

Lill was much impressed, and Jill laid a kind little hand on Mr. Brown's knee.

"Was she pretty?" she asked softly.

"We thought her very pretty. She had big blue eyes, and long yellow curls, and she was a bright little girl for her age. Her mother and I were very proud of her."

"Her mother," repeated Jill, with a sudden recollection. "Oh, I remember; her mother was drowned, too."

Lill felt the arms that held her tremble slightly, but Mr. Brown's voice was quite calm when he answered, though the look of suffering had deepened on his face.

"It was a bathing accident," he said. "We had a cottage at the seashore, not far from New York. I was obliged to go to town every day, to attend to business, and my wife and little girl used to drive me to the station. They drove me as usual that last morning, and Lilian asked me to bring her home a particular story-book she wanted. I promised to get the book if I did not forget, and as the train was moving out of the station, I heard her little voice calling to me from the pony carriage; 'Don't forget, Daddy, be sure you don't forget.' I turned for one last look, and they both smiled and nodded to me. Lilian kissed her hand. I never saw either my wife or my little girl again."

"Oh!" gasped Lill, and she suddenly drew Mr. Brown's face down and kissed him.

"I think we know now why you are so sorry for us," said Jill, softly. "Would you mind telling us what happened?"

"They went bathing in the surf as they had often done before. My wife was a good swimmer, and she had taught Lilian to swim a little, too. They were both very fond of it. The sea was high that day, and there was a strong undertow. Nobody knows just what happened, but they think Lilian swam out too far, and her mother tried to save her. They were both drowned before help came."

"How terrible!" said Jill in a shocked voice. "I shouldn't think you would ever want to see the sea again. I wish we could do something for you to show how sorry we are."

"You are showing me that without doing anything at all," said Mr. Brown, kindly. "There, there, Lill, don't cry so; I shall be sorry I told you about my little girl if it makes you so unhappy."

"Oh, it isn't that," said Lill, choking back her sobs. "It was good of you to tell us, and I loved hearing it, only--only there are so many unhappy people in the world."

"But there are a great many happy people in the world as well as unhappy ones," said Mr. Brown, soothingly. "Why think so much about the sad things?"

"Do you really think there are?" asked Lill, somewhat comforted by this assurance. "Everybody seems so unhappy here now. I said something wicked to Jill upstairs, and I wish I hadn't--oh, I do wish I hadn't!"

"What did you say?" Mr. Brown inquired, with a faint smile.

"It was about Uncle George. I said I wished he knew about Mummy's being in Sicily, and that it would make him very unhappy. I thought I wanted him to be unhappy, because he was once unkind to Mummy, but it was a wicked thing to say. I don't really want any one in the world to be unhappy, not even Uncle George."

"Not even Uncle George," repeated Mr. Brown sadly. "Don't you think that you may be just a little hard on this uncle of yours? You may not know all the circumstances."

"I know he was unkind to Mummy," said Lill, and there was a suspicion of the old obstinacy in her tone.

"But suppose your uncle never received the letter your mother wrote him asking for help? Suppose he had no idea that she was poor and in trouble--did not even know her husband was dead. Would you hate him quite so much if you knew that?"

"No, I don't suppose I should," Lill admitted. "If he never got Mummy's letter, and didn't know about father--but then he was very unkind to Mummy before."

"He may have been very sorry for that. I happen to know George Brooks very well, and I am sure he never received that last letter."

"Oh," cried Jill, her face lighting up with sudden hope, "do you think he would help Mummy now if he knew how poor she was, and how hard she worked?"

"I know he would. I know he would gladly share everything he has in the world with her, if only for the sake of gaining her forgiveness. He would have tried to find her long ago, but they were both very proud, and they had quarrelled. He was afraid she might not care to see him."

"But she would, I know she would!" cried Jill, eagerly. "She used to love him very dearly. She often talks to us about the time when she was a little girl and she and Uncle George were everything to each other, just as Lill and I are now. It makes her sad to talk about it, but she likes to just the same. Is Uncle George a--a nice man?"

"He has been a hard man, I am afraid," said Mr. Brown, with a sigh, "but a great sorrow has come into his life, and I think he is less hard now than he used to be. What's the matter, Lill?"

"I'm sorry I said I hated Uncle George," said Lill, remorsefully, burying her face on Mr. Brown's shoulder. "It was unkind, and I don't like to be unkind."

"Never mind, little girl; don't think about it any more. Your uncle won't bear you any malice, you may be sure of that. He has far too many unkind acts of his own to account for without blaming a little girl, who only hated him because she thought he had been unkind to her mother."

"I'll tell you what we'll do," exclaimed Jill, with a sudden inspiration. "It's New Year's Eve, and we always make good resolutions for the new year. Let's resolve never to judge people until we are perfectly sure we know all about them."

"But you won't need to make that resolution," said Lill, loyally, "because you never do say unkind things about anybody--not even about Uncle George."

"Oh, well, perhaps I think them just the same," said Jill, blushing. "Let's make the resolution anyway. It will seem more like New Year's Eve if we make resolutions. Shall you write to Uncle George about Mummy, Mr. Brown?"

"I shall certainly speak to your mother on the subject as soon as she comes home," said Mr. Brown, and then they were all silent again, for the same dreadful thought was in all their minds; suppose Mummy never came home. At last Jill rose reluctantly.

"I think we had better go now, Lill," she said. "It's getting late, and Mr. Brown will want to go to bed."

"I am in no hurry," said Mr. Brown, and he looked almost as if he would be sorry to have them go. "Stay as long as you like."

But Jill still looked doubtful.

"I'm afraid Signora Paloni wouldn't like to have us stay any longer," she said. "She always comes up to see us before she goes to bed, and if she doesn't find us she will be frightened."

"Bother Signora Paloni!" said Mr. Brown, impatiently. "We will hear her when she comes up, and I will explain matters to her. We'll see the old year out and the new one in--that is if you don't get sleepy in the meantime."

So the children stayed, and when Signora Paloni came up a little later, Mr. Brown called her in, and made her understand in his halting Italian, that he wished to keep the twins with him a little longer. And, somewhat to Jill's surprise, the Signora--whose eyes were red from crying--made no objection, but merely nodded her head, and crept quietly away again. It was very still for a long time after that. Lill fell into a doze, with her head on Mr. Brown's shoulder, but Jill sat with wide-open eyes, gazing into the fire, and pondering many things.

At last the stillness was broken by the sound of wheels in the quiet street. Lill was wide awake in a moment.

"What is it?" she demanded, sitting up, and staring about the strange room in a bewildered way.

"Only a carriage passing," said Mr. Brown.

"It's stopping here," cried Jill, and she was on her feet and half way to the door before she had finished her sentence. Lill tried to rise, too, but she trembled so much that Mr. Brown put his arm round her, saying reassuringly--

"It is nothing, dear, nothing; probably the carriage has stopped next door."

A loud ring at the door-bell cut him short, and next moment Lill had darted away into the hall, after Jill, who was already half way downstairs. Mr. Brown grew very pale, and sank back in his chair.

"It is Fratini's telegram," he murmured. "Thank God for any news; anything is better than this frightful suspense."

But it was not Fratini's telegram. Jill had the door open before the Palonis could reach it, and then there was a wild, joyful cry of "Mummy! Mummy!" and after that nothing but a confused hubbub, in which everybody seemed to be talking, and crying, and kissing all at once.

It was nearly half an hour later when Mummy and the twins came upstairs together. Mummy was very tired--almost exhausted, in fact--but her eyes were shining with the light of a great thankfulness, and she had an arm round each little girl. She had not been at Messina, owing to the slight illness of one of the girls she was chaperoning, which had detained the party at Palermo longer than they had originally intended, but they had been through enough trying and painful experiences to give them the horrors whenever they recalled that time for years to come. It had not been possible to telegraph the news of their safety to anxious friends at home, as all the lines were down, but they had left Sicily on the first available boat, and hurried back to Florence as fast as the Naples express could bring them.

Outside Mr. Brown's door the twins paused.

"Let's go in and speak to him," said Jill. "He'll be so interested to hear all about it. He has been so good to us, Mummy dear; he even sent his man all the way to Sicily to try to find you."

"Indeed I want to thank him," said Mummy, eagerly, and in her quick, impulsive way, she hurried through the open door, straight into Mr. Brown's sitting-room.

"It's Mummy!" cried Lill, joyfully, running to her friend's side. "She wasn't in that dreadful Messina at all, only in Palermo, and the earthquake wasn't nearly so bad there. Oh, isn't it glorious to have her back again, and in time for the new year, too?"

"I want to thank you for your great kindness to my little girls," began Mummy, then stopped short, and stood staring in blank astonishment at Mr. Brown, while all the color went out of her face.

"Kitty," he said, in a low, unsteady voice, "thank God you are safe. It has been a terrible time of suspense for us all."

"George!" gasped Mummy, her face lighting up with a new and sudden joy, "oh, George dear, this is the best of all, but I never knew--I never dreamed--"

"Of course you didn't," said Mr. Brown, smiling, though there were tears in his eyes. "These little people didn't dream either, but we have settled several things to-night; among others that it isn't wise to judge people until we know all the circumstances in the case. I came to Florence three weeks ago, and in a chance meeting with these two little girls learned some things I had never known before. I engaged this apartment, under an assumed name, and moved in here a few days later. I wanted to see for myself how things were with you, and feared to come forward openly at first, in case the old pride should stand in the way of your telling me all I wanted to know. Unfortunately I met with an accident the very day after my arrival, which delayed matters considerably, and the next news I heard was that you had gone to Sicily. These dear little twins of yours took pity on a lonely invalid, and brought him a Christmas present. We made friends, and then came the terrible news of the earthquake. God alone knows what these three awful days have been to me. Kitty, for the sake of our mother, and our own happy childhood, say you forgive me."

"Forgive you?" cried Mummy, between laughing and crying, "why, George dear, there isn't anything to forgive, and if there ever was I forgave it long, long ago." And to the utter amazement of the twins, Mummy went straight into Mr. Brown's outstretched arms, and kissed him.

"And to think," cried Lill five minutes later, "to think you were Uncle George all the time, and I said I hated you."

"Well, you don't hate me any more, you know," said Uncle George, smiling, and he drew Lill to him, and kissed her tenderly.

"She is the very image of my little Lilian, Kitty," he said, tremulously. "I think I loved her from the first moment I saw her, and yet the very first opinion I heard her express was that uncles in general were wicked."

"But I don't think so any more," said Lill, blushing. "Oh, Uncle George, I think you must be the best man in the world not to be angry with me for saying such dreadful things, and I love you better than anybody except Mummy and Jill."

"Hark!" cried Jill, "there are the bells; they are ringing in the new year, and the church clock is striking twelve. Happy New Year, everybody."

"Happy New Year! Happy New Year!" echoed Uncle George and Lill, and Mummy added softly, with the tears shining in her eyes--

"It is a glad new year for us, but don't let us forget the thousands of homes rendered desolate by this frightful calamity. God has been very good to us, and we must be very grateful for our blessings."

"We have been making good resolutions, Mummy," said Lill. "Mine is to try not to be unjust and say things about people until I know all their reasons. What's yours, Jill?"

"To try to like lessons better, and not give Mummy so much trouble," said Jill. "Have you made one, Mummy?"

"Yes, darling, and it is to try to have more faith and to believe that God knows what is best for us, even when things seem darkest."

"I have made a resolution, too," said Uncle George. "It is to try to make three dear people as happy as I can. I have a good deal more money than I care to spend on myself, and now that my dear wife and little girl aren't here any longer, I want to share it with the three people I care most for in the world. Will you help me to carry out my resolution, Kitty?"

Mummy didn't answer in words, but she slipped her hand into her brother's, and the smile she gave him, though a little tremulous, was very bright and loving.

HOW REGGIE SAW THE SPHINX