“And I don’t believe there is much butter either,” smiled the older woman.
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” said the other. “Is—is your son—is there any change?”
“Not for the better,” was the reply. “I am afraid his fever is increasing.”
“And has the surgeon seen him this evening?”
“Not to-night.”
“Why not!” exclaimed Miss Kittridge in great surprise. “Surely his condition is sufficiently critical to demand more than one brief visit in the morning.”
“I can’t ask him to come twice with so many waiting for him,” said Mrs. Varney.
“But they would not refuse you, Mrs. Varney,” said Miss Kittridge quickly. “There’s that man going back to the hospital, he’s in the dining-room yet. I’ll call him and send word that——”
She started impulsively toward the door, but Mrs. Varney caught her by the arm.
“No,” she said firmly; “I can’t let you.”