"Hush, dear. I'm sorry I asked. Of course he has. He would surely have told you if he hadn't."
"He surely would have done nothing of the sort. It's exactly what he would not do. He would have thought he could make it up, get it back or something."
Anne rose and began taking off her things. "I'll stay to-night, momsy. I'll just go and phone Roger and Mrs. Horton. She can take Rogie for a day or two until we see how things are."
Hilda looked so relieved, almost cheerful, that Anne bent and kissed her.
"It will be all right, dear. We'll manage."
Hilda clung to her hand. "Annie—you don't really think—he might have——"
Anne took a sudden decision. "I'll ask him, mamma." It would be difficult enough the next few days without this constant, harping anxiety of her mother's.
"Annie! You can't ask him a thing like that. Not now. The doctor said he must have absolute rest, not be worried or annoyed in any way. He would think we were counting—Anne! It's horrible."
"I won't do it that way, moms. I won't do it at all if it doesn't work out. Please trust me."
"I do, Annie. And I would like to know. I sha'n't be able to think of anything else until I do. You won't be long phoning, will you?"