“But I want to go,” Nancy said, with a suspicion of a pout.
“Where?”
“Out to Sillery.”
The doctor looked at her in benign rebuke.
“Nancy, it is eight miles to Sillery and back, and your father is short of wind. Even if Monseigneur Laval’s ghost were not calling me, I couldn’t be tempted to take any such tramp as that.”
Just then, though apparently by chance, St. Jacques stepped forward. The doctor’s eyes lighted, as they fell upon this possible substitute.
“You’d better ask M. St. Jacques to go, Nancy. I was just advising him to be out in the open air as much as possible.”
Nancy’s spine stiffened slightly, but quite perceptibly. Much as she liked St. Jacques and enjoyed his society, it was no part of her plan to accept his escort, when it was offered by a third person.
“M. St. Jacques has lectures and things to go to, daddy,” she said, with an accent of calm rebuke.
St. Jacques started to speak; but the doctor forestalled him.