"Why, Frank—outdoors? Who said you could do that?"
"I did. Oh, the doctor said so, too," he flung out hurriedly, answering the dawning disapproval in her eyes. "I'm going to Dalton next week."
"Oh, but, Frank—"
"Now, please don't argue. I'm going. If you and the doctor can get me well enough to go—all right. But I'm going whether I'm well enough or not."
"But, Frank, dear, you can't do anything. You know you promised."
"Oh, I shan't break any promises, of course. But I'm going to see Burke. I'm going to find out if he really is ninny enough to keep on holding off, at the end of a silly quarrel, the sweetest little wife a man ever had, and—"
"I opine you've seen Helen," smiled Edith Thayer, with a sudden twinkle.
"I have, and—doesn't like Browning, indeed! And can't help liking tunes! Oh, good Heavens, Edith, if Burke Denby doesn't— Well, we'll see next week," he glowered, striding away, followed by the anxious but still twinkling eyes of his sister.
In accordance with his threat, and in spite of protests, the doctor went to Dalton the next week. But almost by return train he was back again, stern-lipped and somber-eyed.
"Why, Frank, so soon as this?" cried his sister. "Surely Burke Denby didn't—"