ONE or two murmurs; and then—
"Dick, I don't think you are well."
(Mrs. Brutt pricked up her ears. "Dick" indeed! Had it gone so far already? She felt that she was amply justified in listening. No one could blame her for carrying out so patent a duty.)
"I'm fit enough. Only worried."
"What about? Tell me."
"I've had a letter."
"From your mother? From one of your sisters? Try to forget it just now. Dick, I didn't half think we should get off this morning. I believe Mrs. Brutt has begun to suspect. She's an awful hand at ferreting out things."
"I should imagine she had a gift that way."
"Oh, she's awful! If once she suspects, we shall have no more peace. Her 'dear young doctor' will be in her bad graces at once. However, she vanished in a hurry after breakfast—perhaps to pester them at the châlet. She does so 'love cheering up invalids,' you know."
(The outraged lady held her breath. That Doris should dare to mimic her! The insolence of it! The impertinence!)