A little later, Buntingford's voice was heard below. Cynthia, descending,
found him with Arthur in his arms. The day had been hot and rainy--an
oppressive scirocco day--and the boy was languid and out of sorts. The
nurse advised his being carried up early to bed, and Buntingford had
arrived just in time.
When he came downstairs again, he found Cynthia in a garden hat, and they
strolled out to look at the water-garden which was the common hobby of
both the sisters. There, sitting among the rushes by the side of the
little dammed-up stream, he produced a letter from Mrs. Friend, with the
latest news of his ward.
"Evidently we shan't get Helena back just yet. I shall run up next week
to see her, I think, Cynthia, if you will let me. I really will take
Arthur to Beechmark this week. Mrs. Mawson has arranged everything. His
rooms are all ready for him. Will you come and look at them to-morrow?"
Cynthia did not reply at once, and he watched her a little anxiously. He
was well aware what giving up the boy would mean to her. Her devotion had
been amazing.
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