"By proxy," Brent mumbled, at the moment carefully drawing a line. "But promises don't amount to a fiddle-de-dee. Men brace up when they want to. Have you seen Jane lately?"
"Not for some days. You know I urged her not to ride alone. Why?"
"I was just wondering if she had spoken to you about Dale. Have you noticed anything strange in him?"
"I've noticed that he is thinner," a shade of worry passed over the fine old face, "and his eyes—" he hesitated.
"That's it," Brent looked up. "His eyes have a haunted look. He's sick, Colonel."
"I should have spoken to Stone, Brent, but have been so worried over that dear girl! She seems changed, too. I don't know what is happening to us!"
"Better speak to him today, then. He's leaving for a few days' pilgrimage to distant patients."
The old gentleman went to the door and called down to Uncle Zack, sending him after the doctor whom he knew, since the little motor vehicle was in front, must be somewhere on the grounds.
In silence they waited; the Colonel meditative, Brent leaning above his drawing and making line after line which would weld the mountains with civilization. Still their man did not come, so without further comment the Colonel went slowly down stairs and out to the porch, there gazing sternly at the grouped lawn chairs where the attentive physician was sitting with Nancy. But, as he approached them, a measure of recollection must have returned to the man of science, for he looked hurriedly at his watch and began to stammer:
"Colonel, I am greatly to be excused! I was just—just giving Nancy a few—a few instructions till I come back for her!"