The family were standing at their places at the table with their heads
bowed, and Captain Murray was asking a blessing, a long blessing with
a little prayer midway, for the dear friends going on so “distant a
journey.”
Ah! Ned and Hereward, there lies the difference; true and loving and
grateful as you are, you cannot comprehend that there is a Father in
heaven willing to hear and answer the prayer of, every soul He has
created.
“Let the good fellows in to-night,” said Captain Murray, when the
blessing was over, and he discovered the dogs at the window. Harry
unlatched the door only too gladly, and they came leaping in; but acting
under orders from their lord and master, soon dropped quietly down in
one corner to wait as patiently as possible for their own supper time.
Regie sat next to Mamma Fairfax, holding his fork in the wrong hand now
and then, that he might give her left hand a squeeze under the table.
Regie was happy and contented, and yet there was a real little ache in
his heart. She was going a long way from home, that dear Mamma Fairfax
of his, and how could he help feeling somewhat sad about it?
Mr. Fairfax was apparently very full of fun that night, and amused the
children, telling of certain strange pranks of his own when he was a
boy.
Mrs. Murray laughed whenever the others did, but she really did not hear
much that was going on, she was so thoroughly preoccupied in seeing if
Mrs. Fairfax would not have another biscuit, or if Mr. Fairfax's cup was
empty, and in caring that everyone had plenty to eat. When supper was
finished, Sister Julia in her quiet, helpful way insisted upon aiding
Mrs. Murray to clear the table. Little Nan attended to her regular share
of the work, and as a result, soon paraded a wonderfully bright row of
tumblers on the lowest shelf of the dresser. When the red cloth had been
laid on the table, Captain Murray brought out a great map, and they all
gathered about while Mr. Fairfax showed them the plan of their journey.
“You'll get it out often and keep track of us, won't you?” he said to
Regie, taking the crutches from his hand and lifting him to his knee.
“Every night,” Regie promised, solemnly.
“Not every night, Rex,” said Mr. Fairfax. “That will not be necessary,
because you see we shall spend a week in London, and another whole week
in Berlin, and two weeks perhaps in Paris.”
“Shall you?” asked Regie, ruefully.
“Why, to be sure; have you any objections, Rex?”
“Oh, I thought you'd keep going and going until you got back again. I
shall not like to think of you as stopping so long anywhere.”
“We shall come home just as soon,” laughed Mr. Fairfax, giving that
little adopted boy of his the most genuine sort of a fatherly hug.
All too soon it was nine o'clock, and time for the children to go to
bed.
Mrs. Fairfax went up herself with Regie. Sister Julia had been up before
her and lighted the candle, and laid Regie's night-dress out on the bed.
“You will try not to give Mrs. Murray any trouble, won't you, dear?”
said Mrs. Fairfax, helping Regie to undress.
“Yes, I will, Mamma Fairfax,” Regie answered, with a little quiver in
his voice.
“And you will write to me once a week?”
“Yes, mamma,” with two little quivers.
“And you will do just as Sister Julia tells you?”
“Yes,” and with a great sob Regie hid his face on her shoulder.
“Why, Rex darling, do you really care so much?” said Mrs. Fairfax, with
tears in her own eyes. “Well, I am proud that you do, and you will be
all the more glad to have us home again. In the meantime, you will be
very happy in this dear little home with Harry and Nan.”
“Yes, I know I will,” said Regie, with a shadow of a smile.
“And your little crutches will be hanging on the wall long before that
time, because you will have no further need of them.”
“Yes, I know,” said Regie, with a face almost wreathed in smiles at the
thought, as he scrambled into bed.
Then Mr. Fairfax ran up the little flight, two steps at a time, to bid
him good-bye.
There was considerable whispering and hugging between the little fellow
inside the bed and the big fellow outside, and then in another moment
Papa Fairfax was gone.
And then it was Mamma Fairfax's turn. “I will send Sister Julia right
up,” she said, for Regie should not be left alone that night. “And now
two of your best hugs and five of your best kisses--and now, my own dear
little Rex, good-night and goodbye.”
[Illustration: 5046]
[Illustration: 0047]