"I know you will think of me kindly, and I shall like that as well as any present." And then she drove to the Waterloo station alone, a gnawing anxiety in her heart.

And all the journey to Bournemouth her spirits sank lower and lower until, when she got there, it seemed as if the old cab-horse were a cow in its slowness, to get to the doctor's trim house.
"Yes," Mrs.Morley said as soon as she arrived, "your little brother has had a very sharp attack." He escaped from the garden about ten days before, she explained, and was gone at least two hours, and then returned wet through, and was a little light-headed that night, and had talked of "Maman and the angels," and "Papa and Cherisette," but they could obtain no information from him as to why he went, nor whom he had seen.

He had so rapidly recovered that the doctor had not thought it necessary to let any one know, and she, Mrs.Morley--guessing how busy one must be ordering a trousseau--when there was no danger had refrained from sending a letter, to be forwarded from the given address.
Here Zara's eyes had flashed, and she had said sternly, "The trousseau was not of the slightest consequence in comparison to my brother's health." Mirko was upstairs in his pretty bedroom, playing with a puzzle and the nurse; he had not been told of his sister's proposed coming, but some sixth sense seemed to inform him it was she, when her footfall sounded on the lower stairs, for they heard an excited voice shouting: "I tell you I will go--I will go to her, my Cherisette!" And Zara hastened the last part, to avoid his rushing, as she feared he would do, out of his warm room into the cold passage.
The passionate joy he showed at the sight of her made a tightness round her heart.

He did not look ill, only, in some unaccountable way, he seemed to have grown smaller.

There was, too, even an extra pink flush in his cheeks.
He must sit on her lap and touch all her pretty things.