"Have you had your holiday, yet, Dr. Elizabeth?" asked Violet. Then, as Dr. Elizabeth shook her head, she said: "But you'll take one, won't you? I am sure you must need a change."
"I don't know that I do, my dear," was the smiling response; "but I shall see. Ah, here comes tea!"
"And I for one am ready for it," confessed Mrs. Reed; "we have been for a very long walk, and I was feeling nearly done up when you overtook us. I am so glad to have a rest."
"We are making the most of the fine weather and the few remaining days of the holidays," explained Ann; "but I am afraid we are tiring mother out; we go on and on and forget that we have to walk back."
After having drunk a cup of tea Mrs. Reed declared herself to be greatly refreshed. She sat quietly listening whilst Ann and Violet talked to Dr. Elizabeth, telling her how they had spent their time at Teymouth. By-and-by the conversation took a more serious turn, and Ann spoke of poor Malvina Medland, and expressed her regret that Lottie continued to give her mother so much anxiety.
"Have you seen Lottie since you came home?" Dr. Elizabeth inquired.
"Yes," Ann replied; "Violet and I went to see her on Saturday. She was out when we arrived, but it was not long before she came in. As soon as she caught sight of us in the kitchen with her mother, she ran upstairs and shut herself into her room—Malvina's room, you know. I went up, afterwards, and had a short conversation with her, but she talked so wildly that she quite frightened me. She said she was wicked, and a miserable girl, and not fit to pray, and she seemed in a terrible state of grief. I did not know what to say to her, I can't understand her."
"Nor I," admitted Dr. Elizabeth thoughtfully; "I've only seen her once since her sister's death, on an occasion when I called in to see Mrs. Medland —I happened to be passing and thought I might be able to speak a comforting word to the poor woman. It struck me then that there was something weighing on Lottie's mind; she seemed so restless, and I noticed a furtive look in her eyes, a look I did not like at all. I tried to gain her confidence, but I failed. The more I think of her the more puzzled I become."
"Do you not think that the recollection that but for her bad behaviour Malvina would have been much happier during her last illness weighs upon her mind?" suggested Mrs. Reed.
"Doubtless it does to a great extent," agreed Dr. Elizabeth; "but I do not fancy that alone is accountable for her strange conduct."