She was sitting with her eyes taking in all the beauty of the ancient High Street, when a car came swiftly round the corner, hooting madly, and missing the doctor’s trap, which was drawn up on the right side of the road, only by inches.
Dorothy heard herself hailed by a familiar voice, and saw Rhoda Fleming leaning out and waving wildly to her as the car went down the street.
Dr. Sedgewick came out at the moment and stood looking at the fluttering handkerchief which was being wagged so energetically.
“Was that some one you know?” he asked. “Downright road hogs they were, anyhow. Why, they almost shaved our wheel as they shot past. It was enough to make a horse bolt. It is lucky Captain is a quiet animal.”
“The girl who was waving her handkerchief was Rhoda Fleming, one of the Sixth, and a candidate for the Lamb Bursary,” said Dorothy, as she guided Captain round the narrow streets of Langbury, and so out to the Farley Road.
“Where does she come from?” asked Dr. Sedgewick, and he frowned. Rhoda’s face had been quite clear to him as she was whirled past in the racing car, and he had been struck by a something familiar in it.
“Her people live at Henlow in Surrey, or is it Sussex?” said Dorothy. “Her father is a rather important person, and has twice been mayor of Henlow.”
“I know him—Grimes Fleming his name is—but I do not know much good about him.” The doctor spoke rather grimly, then asked, “Is this girl a great chum of yours?”
“Not exactly.” Dorothy laughed, thinking of the openly avowed dislike Rhoda had displayed for her. “I think Tom and she are great pals; but I do not know that she is particularly good for him.”
“Seeing she is her father’s daughter, I should say that she is not. Can’t you stop it, Dorothy?” There was anxiety in her father’s tone that Dorothy was quick to sense.