She saw the girl wince at the name by which no one as yet had called her.
"Why this timidity, this unexpected politeness, when it's not usual for you even to knock?"
She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
"True enough, Mrs. Dubois, but naturally a poor country doctor like me would hesitate before bolting in upon the privacy of a rich widow."
"If you use 'poor' in the sense of incompetent I am afraid I must agree with you," was the unexpected answer.
"Ah, beginning to feel your oats, my dear." She slouched into the nearest chair and flung her hat carelessly upon the floor.
"You notice it, my dear?" mimicked Essie Tisdale.
"When a range cayuse has a few square meals he gets onery."
"While they merely give a well-bred horse spirit."
Dr. Harpe looked at her searchingly. There was a change in Essie Tisdale. She had a new confidence of manner, a cool poise that was older than her years, while that intangible something which she could never crush looked at her more defiantly than ever from the girl's sparkling eyes. She had a feeling that Essie Tisdale welcomed her coming. Certainly her assurance and animation was strangely at variance with her precarious position. What had happened? Dr. Harpe intended to learn before she left the room.