"I decided wrongly. Sally was obliged to go, and anxious to take Garda—I was in Charleston, and I allowed it. I had no business to!" said the Doctor, slapping his knee suddenly and fiercely. "I distinctly disapprove of much travelling for young girls—mere aimless gadding about. But I have been corrupted, to a certain degree, by the new nor—the new modern ideas that are making their way everywhere at present; I could bury my head in a hay-stack! When did you hear from her last?"
"I had a letter from Norfolk immediately after her arrival."
"Before she had met him. And nothing since?"
"Nothing."
"Yes, she said she should rather have me tell you than write herself."
"She thought you would be on her side."
"No, madam, no; she couldn't have thought that—that would be impossible. But she was good enough to say that I should, in the telling, be certain to make you laugh. And that was what she wanted."
Moisture glittered suddenly in his eyes as he brought this out. He pretended it was not there, and searching for his handkerchief, he coughed gruffly, complaining of "a cold."
"I certainly don't laugh," said Margaret. "But perhaps we need not be so—so troubled about it, Doctor. The first thing now is to have her come home."
"She's back in Charleston."