Irene gave her the telegram, while the tears rained down her face. “Johnnie is dying,” she said, “and I must take the first train for home. There is one at eleven. I must catch it.” She started upstairs, followed by Rena, who said: “I am sorry for you, and hope we may find him better.” “We,” Irene repeated. “You are not going with me.” “Yes, I am,” Rena replied, beginning to fold one of her dresses. “But you must not,” Irene continued. “The telegram said ‘malignant diphtheria.’ You had it once and came near dying. You must not run the risk again. You are not needed. Our house is small. Tom and your aunt would not like it, and you must not go.” Very reluctantly Rena hung up her dress, with a feeling that Irene was right—that Tom and her aunt would not like her running into danger and that very likely she would be in the way, and might again contract the disease which had nearly ended her life a few years before. “Mr. Travers is coming up the lane,” Mrs. Parks said, putting her head in at the door and adding that Sam Walker, who happened in, had offered to take Miss Burdick to the station with Black Beauty and had gone to harness and would be there in a minute. In her excitement Irene had scarcely thought of Rex and the call she had felt so sure he would make and its probable result. “O Rena!” she groaned, sitting down upon the hat-box in which she had put the few articles she might need. “This is very hard upon me—to miss the goal just as I thought I had reached it. Mr. Travers is coming, and I must tell him where I am going and why—and what will he think? I have not time to explain. You must do it for me after I am gone. There is Sam now, stopping at the gate.” There was not a great deal of time if she would catch the train, and Irene was glad of it, as it would prevent Rex from asking questions she would rather have Rena answer for her. Putting on her sacque and hat she started to go down just as Rex came into the hall. He had not slept well. The eye seen in the mirror had troubled him in his dreams and was looking at him the moment he awoke making him wonder if it would follow him after he had talked with Irene. A cold bath had toned him up somewhat and Colin’s cheerfulness toned him more. “Go right over and have it done with,” Colin had said. “Maybe she won’t have you. I wouldn’t if I was in her place, shilly-shallying as you have been. If she won’t, all right. You have done your duty. On the whole you’d better begin with the will. Ask her what she thinks of it and if she is willing to carry it out. Tell her you are if she is and make some kind of a love demonstration. Giles would know how to do it. I wish he was here. Act as you must have seen him act with the other one. Keep a stiff upper lip and take her hand. I know that is right and proper—the way I should do. Just the touch of it will make you feel kind of all over, or ought to. Such a hand as she has!”