She had tiptoed past his sleeping body an hour before, and after listening to St.George's breathing had plunged into her tubs; the cat's cradle in the dingy court-yard being already gay with various colored fragments, including Harry's red flannel shirts which Todd had found in a paper parcel, and which the old woman had pounced upon at sight.

She insisted on making him a cup of coffee, but he had no time for such luxuries.

He would keep on, he said, to Kennedy Square, find Pawson, ascertain if St.George's old rooms were still unoccupied; notify him of Mr.Temple's return; have his bed made and fires properly lighted; stop at the livery stable, wake up Todd, if that darky had overslept himself--quite natural when he had been up almost all night--engage a carriage to be at Jemima's at four o'clock, and then return to get everything ready for the picking-up-and-carrying-downstairs process.
And all this he did do; and all this he told Jemima he had done when he swung into the court-yard an hour later, a spring to his heels and a cheery note in his voice that had not been his for years.

The reaction that hope brings to youth had set in.

He was alive and at home; his Uncle George was where he could get his hands on him--in a minute--by the mounting of the stairs; and Alec and his mother within reach! And the same glad song was in his heart when he opened his uncle's door after he had swallowed his coffee--Jemima had it ready for him this time--and thrusting in his head cried out: "We are going to get you out of here, Uncle George!" This with a laugh--one of his old contagious laughs that was music in the sick man's ears.
"When ?" asked the invalid, his face radiant.