“Is she ill now?”
“Well, she isn’t right yet,” said Churton. “Not up to visitors or letter-writing.”
“She has always wished to see us before, when she wasn’t well.”
“People change as they get older,” said Churton. “Anyhow, she seems to want to be quiet. Maimie, if you have anything to say, you had better say it quickly, for I must be off.”
“There’s plenty of time,” Maimie said quietly. I noticed with surprise that her lips were trembling.
“And I want very much to know more about Aunt Briscoe’s illness,” I added.
“It was a touch of bronchitis first, and she doesn’t get up strength after it,” replied Churton. “Plenty of time for you, perhaps, Maimie, but not for me. So if you don’t speak, I’m off. If you want to see me alone, I’ve no doubt your Aunt will excuse us;” and he made a movement as if to get up.
“No, thank you, father. I would rather a great deal that Aunt Marion should hear, only she must promise not to interrupt.”
“What! Am I to be tongue-tied, Maimie?”
“Just for a little while,” she said coaxingly. “I want to put my question in my own way, and to let father answer as he chooses.”