IT was Madge’s custom to be up and have the baby dressed at half-past six, and breakfast ready at a quarter past seven, Mrs. Kayll nearly always coming down about the same time as she did, and sharing the work of preparing the meal, though Madge used to try to get it done without waking her. The boys were always the next to make their appearance, as they had to start early for work.

On this particular morning, after the night of useless waiting and watching, the meal was spread, the baby sitting in a corner trying to wear some teeth through his gums by means of a bread-crust, and Madge was sharpening a knife ready for cutting the bread, when Jack descended from above, whistling as he came.

“Morning, old girl,” said he in cheery tones. “What time did father get home?”

His sister was very pale, with red eyelids, and many unmistakable signs of having cried a great deal not long since. Jack was not given to showing much affection—in fact he showed so little that he was not supposed to feel any at all. Therefore it was only “like him” that he should simply stare at her blankly when he observed these signs, and say:

“Hallo! What’s up?”

Madge’s only answer was “Oh, Jack!” in a broken voice, as she turned away her head for a minute.Jack still stared in wonder. Had father not come home at all? Had—why did Madge look so strange? All at once something much worse than the truth flashed into his mind. The colour left his ruddy face in an instant, leaving it ashy white, and he stood gazing at her, with a sudden horror turning him cold and sick. He could not speak again, but sat down by the table and waited for what was to come.

“Oh, Jack,” she repeated in the same half-choked tones, “poor father!”

The boy tried hard to ask something—“How—what—?” and his lips parted, but no sound came.

“Mother sat up for him till nearly half-past three,” Madge went on, overcoming her emotion enough to be able to cut some bread and butter, and never dreaming for an instant what was passing in her brother’s mind, and what unnecessary misery she was making him suffer. “Then she woke me, and I came down, while she went to try and find out what had become of him.”

The memory of her lonely watch was really in great part what caused Madge’s voice to tremble and her eyes to fill, but as Jack knew nothing of this he was quite unprepared for her next remark:

“And what should you think? He has been taken up by the police for a burglar, and is locked up.”

The boy still said nothing, for he had hard work to keep back a burst of laughter. Locked up! Was that all? And he had been fancying—but here he checked himself, and set his teeth until the desire to either laugh or cry was gone. To Madge’s surprise he turned on her angrily the next moment.

“What on earth is there in that to make such a fuss about? I suppose they’ll soon find out their mistake and set him at liberty again.”

He swallowed some tea, took a bite or two of bread and butter, and, before she had got over her astonishment, had snatched up his cap and run off.

“What an unfeeling boy!” Madge said to herself when he was gone. “He doesn’t seem to care a bit for anybody. How different from Jem!” For Madge was one of those who judge people by their manner and appearance, and are not in the least able to see below the surface.

Then down came Bob and Jem, who had slept the night through, and were quite unprepared to hear that anything uncommon had happened. Madge had to explain again, and after his first surprise was over, Bob’s first thought was for “the mother,” as he called her.

“Where is she?” he asked, as she did not make her appearance.

“I persuaded her to lie down, as she was up all night. And she can’t do anything now but wait.”

“Fancy poor father locked up in the police station!” said Jem, looking inclined to shed tears, which evidence of feeling was set down to his credit by Madge, but had quite the contrary effect on Bob.

“Look here, Jem,” said he sharply, “don’t go and make things worse by behaving like a girl. Set to and find some work, so that mother hasn’t the worry of knowing you’re doing nothing as well as her other troubles.”“If you think I’m going to stir out of the house before I see father safe back again, you’re very much mistaken. I care more about him than I do about a shilling or two—so there,” Jem returned with a mixture of sulkiness and obstinacy.

Bob shrugged his shoulders, and addressed Madge without taking any more notice of his brother.

“I suppose I had better go to the office as usual, and do the best I can without father, in case he’s wanted,” he said. And he too hurried away.

Then the little girls came down, and had to be sent off to school without being told anything, except that father was out, in accordance with Mrs. Kayll’s wishes, after which there was no one at home but Madge, Jem, the baby, and their mother.

There was so much to do during the morning that the elder sister had no time to be miserable, and somehow Bob’s view of the matter had made her feel much lighter hearted. It was a mistake which would be set right very shortly, and father would come home in the course of the day, and laugh with them over his amusing adventure. She found herself singing over her work later on, after her mother had gone out to be present at the hearing of the case, and would not even be depressed by Jem’s solemn eyes which followed her about full of surprise and reproach.

But her singing did not last long, for baby was extremely fretful, and would not sit on the floor and watch her as usual. He whimpered and fidgeted, and was not in the least amused by Jem’s attempts at playing with him. In short he was so tiresome, for a good-tempered baby, that Madge felt sure he could not be well, and carried him about with her on her left arm, while she dusted the rooms, and made the beds as well as she could with her right hand alone, feeling not a little anxious all the time on the little brother’s account. Suppose he should have “caught something,” how dreadful it would be!