At the train it took all Lansing’s determination, sturdy fellow though he was, to keep up his cheerful front.  The colour had ebbed away from Mrs. Birch’s face once more, and as she put up her arms to her tall son, in the little state-room, she seemed to him all at once so small and frail that he could not endure to see her go away from them all, facing even the remote possibility that in the new land she might fail to find again her old vigour.

It had to be done, however.  Lansing received her clinging good-by, whispered in her ear something which would have been unintelligible to any but a mother’s intuition, so choky was his voice, gripped his father’s hand with both his own, turned and smiled back at the two as he pulled open the door, and swung off the train just as it began to move.

He raced away over the streets to take a trolley-car for home, having dismissed the carriage, and craving nothing so much as a long walk in the cool September night.

At home he found everybody gone to bed except Celia, who met him at the door.  She smiled at him, but he could see that she had been crying.  Although he had carried home a heavy heart, he braced himself to begin his task of keeping the family cheered up.

“Off all right!” he announced, in a casual tone, as if he had just sent away the guests of a week.  “Splendid train, jolly state-room, porter one of the ‘Yassir, yassir’ kind.  Judge and Mrs. Van Camp were taking the same train as far as Chicago.  That will do a lot toward making things pleasant to start with.”

“I’m so glad!” Celia agreed.  “How did mother get off?  Did her strength keep up?”

“Pretty well—­better than I’d have thought possible after all the fuss of that last hour.  The new doctor braced her up in good shape.  He seems all right.  Didn’t you like the way he acted?  Neither like an old family physician nor a new johnny-jump-up; just quiet and cool and pleasant.  Glad he lives next door.  I mean to know him.”

Lansing was turning out lights as he talked, looking after window fastenings, and examining things generally.  Celia watched him from her place on the bottom stair.  He was approaching her with the intention of putting out the hall light and joining her to proceed up-stairs, when he stopped still, wheeled, and made for the back of the hall, where the cellar stairs began.

“I’m forgetting the furnace!” he cried.

“It’s all right,” Celia assured him.  “Jeff took care of it.  He says that’s his work, since you’re to be away all day.”

“Think he can manage it?”

“Of course he can.  The way to please Jeff is to give him responsibility.  He’s old enough, and even having to look after such small matters regularly will help to develop him.”

Lansing laughed; then, extinguishing the light, he came up to her on the stair, and putting his arm about her shoulders, began to ascend slowly with her.