"He let her be ill yesterday—all yesterday—and never sent for me to be with her!" I sobbed, feeling sure of sympathy here, if nowhere else. "Did you ever know of a mother being treated so before?"
But Tom—even Tom—was unsympathetic and disappointing. He did not exclaim and protest on my behalf—did not seem to see how unnatural it was, and what a slight had been put upon me—but just patted my shoulder and stroked my hair, as if I were a mere fretful child.
"If you ask me," he said, when I pressed him to speak his mind, "I must say that I think they showed their sense, Polly. And it's a great relief to me, my dear, on your account. You are so highly strung, pet, that you can't stand things like other people. You'd have been worse than Phyllis. Whereas a placid old Gamp like Mother Juke——"
"Tom!" I broke in sharply. "Who told you that Mother Juke was there?"
"Nobody," said he, with a disconcerted look. "I only thought it likely that she might be. Was she not?"
"She was. But I want to know why you concluded that she was, when I had not mentioned the fact?"
"I didn't conclude it. I only knew that she was keeping an eye on the child, being so experienced, and living so handy."
"How did you know?"
"Ted told me—in a casual way—a good bit ago—I forget exactly when——"
"Tom——"