"Then I'll write and say so. Mother won't like it."
"You must decide the question on its own merits."
"I'll write at once. But of course I shall see him on Friday."
"Why on Friday?"
"Mr. Stirling's birthday."
"Ah—true. That is nothing. You need not see more of him than you wish, in such a crowd. Besides—your note of to-day should make him understand. To accept for to-morrow might involve you in more than you intend."
"Yes—I see. It won't do."
A letter for herself was brought in, badly written, untidily folded. She opened it, and said in surprise: "From Mrs. Morris."
The Rector waited in some suspense, till she spoke again.
"It is to ask if I will go to Wyldd's farm, to-day or to-morrow. Winnie has been worse, and she is to be sent to a hospital for treatment,—and it may cure her, or she may not get through. She wants to see me before she leaves. Daddy, I can't refuse."