“The mater must feel pretty bad if she’s not coming to Grote,” said he.
“Yes, I am afraid she does. Oh, Claude, I am so sorry for her, and you all. Her bravery has made us all blind. I ought to have seen long ago. I reproach myself bitterly.”
“No, no, there’s no cause for that,” said he gently. “She’s taken us all in, and it’s just like her. Besides, who knows? it may be nothing in the least serious.”
“I know that,” said she, “and we won’t be anxious before we have cause. Go and see her, dear, before we start, and make very light of it; just say you are glad she is being sensible at last, in going to be put right. There is no cause for anxiety yet. I shall go round to Sir Henry’s and arrange an appointment for her this afternoon, if possible, and get him to write to us very fully this evening, so that we shall know to-morrow. And then, if we are to get down by lunch, it will be time for us to start. I ordered the motor for twelve.”
Lord Osborne was a good deal perturbed at the ne with which Dora met him at Grote, and it was an affair that demanded careful handling to induce him not to go back at once to town and see her.
“Bless me! Maria not well enough to come down, and you expect me to take my Sunday off, and eat my dinner as if my old lady was a-seated opposite me?” he asked. “Not I, my dear; Maria’s and my place is together, wherever that place may be.”
“But you can’t go against her wish, Dad,” said Dora. “And what’s to become of me if you do? I’ve been sent down on purpose to play at being her. You’ve got to have a glass of milk by your bed, and a couple of biscuits. Oh, I know all about it!”
“To think of your knowing that!” he said, rather struck by this detail.
“Yes, but only this morning did I know it,” said Dora. “I sat with her a long time, and all she could think about was that you should be comfortable down here.”
“Well, it goes against the grain not to be with her,” said he. “But, as you say, there’s no cause to be alarmed yet. And Sir Henry’s going to see her this afternoon?”