Miss Fields grew even more frigid if that were possible. She regarded Gale with the utmost disdain and Gale was glad of Brent’s presence. She felt she would have withered away under such a glare if she had been alone.
“I told you that day at Briarhurst it was impossible,” she said.
“I know,” Gale agreed, “but we want to know why. You must think we are impertinent, but you see we think an awful lot of Phyllis. Something must be done.”
“It will do you no good to question me,” Miss Fields returned. “If that is all I will wish you good day.”
“Wait!” Gale cried when the woman would have left them.
“You have no right to make Phyllis suffer because of a promise you made years ago. She can be cured and you can help! There is no promise important enough to stop that!”
A cool glance was all the reply she got.
“You’ve got to help Phyllis,” Gale insisted doggedly. She took a deep breath and looked at the woman almost pityingly. “I had no idea anyone could be so hard-hearted—so unfeeling! No wonder Phyllis hates you!”
To the utter amazement and consternation of Gale and Brent, Phyllis’ Aunt sank into a chair and covered her face with her hands.
“I know she hates me,” Miss Fields said in a dry whisper, “but I’d do anything for her.”