CHAPTER LI.

AT LANRIFFE.

AFTER that, Randall quickly recovered, and very soon was running about the Strange House, and even walking in Mr. Swift's well-kept garden, where Mr. Swift himself walked slowly round the paths, his hands in his pockets to keep them from trying to pick up the weeds, which as yet he was too weak to do.

"Who'd think," he said to his wife, "that weeds would get ahead in three weeks as these have done! I'm a'most ashamed to say as this garden belongs to me."

He watched the child wistfully, as day by day Randall gained strength and grew more and more such as their own Johnnie had been. But when his wife saw the sad look in his eyes, she would say, with unusual gentleness, "He's in better keeping than ours, husband, and I can hardly wish him back. There are no weeds and no sin in heaven!"

When prudence permitted, and all the disinfecting was properly gone through, the doctor advised that Randall should be taken to the seaside before he mixed again with his brothers and sisters. So Gertrude was allowed to write to her mother at Lanriffe, asking her to find a cottage where they could be received. And in a very short time, she and Randall were standing on the beach, drinking in the autumn air, and feeling the salt spray dash in their faces from the restless sea.

Mrs. Ashlyn prepared everything beforehand for their comfort, and, waiting just a day to allow the sea breezes to blow upon them, she came to see her child, who had passed through so much since they had parted only so few weeks ago.

Randall was out on the beach in front of the cottage, when Gertrude was at last clasped in her mother's arms.

There was so much to tell, and so much to ask, that at first they seemed to have nothing to say.

"My dear, you look—as if you had been a long journey, and had come back different!"

"The same in love to you," faltered Gertrude, for her mother's look was almost more than she could bear.

"Ah! Absence does not make much difference in child-love and mother-love," answered Mrs. Ashlyn.

"And your eyes?" asked Gertrude, looking lovingly in the patient face.

"Not worse, my dear. I have been saving them up. Phyllis is such a treasure now you are gone; she does everything for me."

"I guessed she would."

"Yes; and Otto! Directly you were gone, Otto came to me and told me he intended to be my son."

"Did he?"

"Yes—not only in name, as a sort of pretence, but a son in real earnest. He told me of his love for you, and asked my consent."

"Oh, mother! And you never told me! But of course you did not."

"I left him to tell his own tale. And now he is gone abroad, Phyllis and I seem too lonely. You intend to stay in London, my child?"

Did her mother speak wistfully?

"I must—I think I ought; indeed, I wish it for every reason. You would not have me leave them, mother?"

Mrs. Ashlyn did not at once reply.

So Gertrude continued—

"You see, mother, Mrs. Shaddock has learned to trust me, and I should like to go back and help her. There is much to teach the children that they have never even heard of! Hugh wants help—Mollie is so nice in many ways, but so indulged and independent. I do really think that it would be unkind to leave them now, after all their kindness."

Mrs. Ashlyn did not press the matter further, and the conversation then turned on Mrs. Shaddock's health, which Gertrude explained was not yet satisfactory, though she was much better than she had been.

"I did not know she was subject to such attacks," said Mrs. Ashlyn.

"She has only had one other as serious as this," answered Gertrude, "but many slight warnings. Poor little Randall's piece of mischief has cost him and his mother very dear."

"Have they any idea how he took this?"

"We have no idea. People have suggested that there was some poison lurking in the old cabinet where he hid himself, but I am at a loss to guess what it could have been. He says he sat for ever so long on a form watching for us, by a woman who had a very funny smell in her shawl. Of course that may have been it; people are so careless about carrying infection!"

"Rose is longing to see you," said her mother, "but will wait for a day or two. It was very kind of the Shaddocks to plan your coming here, my dear."

"They are full of such kindnesses. I never saw people so thoughtful for others before—except you, mother; you are always everything!" she added fondly.

"You have heard from Otto?" asked her mother, returning her kiss.

"He writes by every mail that he can. His letters are full of incidents of the voyage—the strange people he meets, the amusing things they do and say, the dogs that people bring with them, the pets they patronize, the absurdities they perpetrate. It reads like a story, only more interesting!"

"I expect it is," said Mrs. Ashlyn, smiling.

"The boy has quite taken to him, and is improving every day. How I long to see Lester, to know if 'he' has gained anything!"

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