“Yes,” Nancy added disconsolately; “and she doesn’t have red hair and a consequent pain in her temper. Daddy?”
“Yes.” With his back to the two young people, the doctor was cramming some papers into his limp portfolio.
“Were you going to walk with me, this afternoon?”
“No, my dear; I wasn’t.”
“But you promised.”
“When?”
“At dinner, yesterday. You promised that, if I would let you off then, you would go with me, to-day.”
“Did I? I am sorry. Really, Nancy, I can’t go.”
“But it is a perfect day.”
“I don’t doubt it; but I have an appointment with the ghost of Monseigneur Laval. Both his time and mine are precious.”