Mr. Evringham wheeled and frowned upon the speaker fiercely. “Hospital!” he ejaculated. “An extraordinary suggestion, Mrs. Forbes! Most extraordinary! My granddaughter remains in my house.”
Mrs. Forbes, crimson with surprise and mortification, retreated. “Very well, sir,” she faltered. “Will you have the roses on the dinner table, Mr. Evringham?”
“No. Set them here on my desk if you please.” With this Mr. Evringham began walking up and down the floor, pausing once to take up the yellow chicken. During the day the soft moan, “I wanted you so all night, grandpa,” had been ringing in his ears.
“Mrs. Forbes has no understanding of the child,” he muttered, “and of course I cannot expect anything from the cat and her kitten.”
With this he began again his promenade. Mrs. Forbes returned with the roses, and simultaneously Mr. Evringham saw Essex Maid arching her neck as she picked her steps past the window.
“By the way,” he said curtly, “let Zeke take the Maid back to the barn. I'll not ride to-day.”
“It's very fine weather, sir,” protested Mrs. Forbes.
“I'll not ride. I'll wait here for Dr. Ballard.”
The housekeeper went forth to give the order.
“I never saw Mr. Evringham so upset in my life,” she said in an awestruck tone.