"What on earth are you and Madge driving at?" exclaimed Mrs. Muir.
"It matters little at what, but Madge appears to be the better driver," chuckled Mr. Muir.
"You have a stanch champion in Henry," said Graydon.
"You wouldn't have him take sides against a woman?"
"Oh, no, but you have become so abundantly able to take care of yourself that he might remain neutral."
"When you all begin to talk English again I'll join in, and now merely remark that I am grateful to you, Madge, for taking care of the children. Jack was good with the nurse, too, and I've had a splendid nap."
"I'm evidently the delinquent," laughed Graydon, "and have led the way in a conversation that has been as bad as whispering in company. What will become of me? You are not going to church to-night, Madge?"
"I did not expect to. If your conscience needs soothing—"
"Oh, no, no. My conscience has been seared with a hot iron—a cold one, I mean. The effects are just the same."
At the supper-room door they were met by Dr. Sommers, with a world of comical trouble in his face, and he drew Madge aside.