Jack's empty sofa, she would no longer be able to choke down the rising
sobs, or keep back the tears which seemed so near the surface.

Early that morning Jack had been taken away to the hospital, and even as
they sat there in silence, Betty and her mother knew the work was being
done which was to decide the fate of the little boy for life.

The doctors had decided that it would be best to perform the operation
before hot weather set in, and besides, as Dr. Bell wisely explained to
Mrs. Randall, it would never do to keep the child in suspense any longer
than necessary, now that he knew what was impending. Mrs. Randall was
not yet strong enough to leave the house, but Dr. Bell had come himself
for Jack, and Mrs. Hamilton had gone with them to the hospital,
promising to remain until the operation was over. Jack had been very
brave and cheerful, and the excitement had helped every one up to the
last moment. Dr. Bell had told funny stories to make them all laugh, and
Mrs. Hamilton had talked about the nice things they would bring Jack
when they came to the hospital to see him. No one had cried, only, just
as the last good-byes were being said, Jack had suddenly thrown his arms
round his mother's neck and clung to her, and Mrs. Randall had clasped
him close to her heart, and held him there in a silence that was far
more expressive than any words. And now it was afternoon, and Betty and
her mother were waiting, in silent, breathless suspense, for the news
that they both knew must come before long. Mrs. Hamilton had promised to
let them know the moment the operation was over.

The door creaked softly and Mrs. Flynn came in with a cup of tea in her
hand.

"Take a drop of tea, dearie, do," she whispered soothingly, bending over
Mrs. Randall's chair; "it'll put heart into ye."

Mrs. Randall shook her head impatiently.

"Not now, Mrs. Flynn; I couldn't touch anything now, it would choke me.
Perhaps by and by----"

Mrs. Flynn turned away with a sigh, and went back to the kitchen,
beckoning to Betty to follow her.

"Can't you do nothin' to cheer her up a bit, darlin'," she whispered,
when Betty joined her in the kitchen. "Not a mouthful of anything has
she touched this whole blessed day, and it's awful to see her sittin'
lookin' like that, her that's just off a sick bed too."

"She's thinking about Jack," said Betty sadly; "she can't eat till she
knows; I couldn't eat either, Mrs. Flynn."

Mrs. Flynn sighed again, and se