“Er—why?” asked Mr. Donalds, with a modest, downcast glance.
“Because we got on so well. I could discuss things with you. You were so reasonable—about that poor Miss Mackellar, for instance.”
“Mrs. Fremby,” he said solemnly, “I consider that you were in the right about Miss Mackellar. I mean to carry out your wishes in that matter.”
“No!” she replied incredulously. “You can’t mean that, after I caused you so much worry and—”
“You did me good,” said he. “I don’t mind admitting it. The example of your—your heroism—”
“Oh, no!”
“Your heroism,” he repeated doggedly, “and your unselfish devotion to the interests of others—What is more, my grandchild is—is enthusiastic in your praise. Mrs. Fremby, allow me to say that you are a wonderful woman!”
Mrs. Fremby was deeply touched.
“Mr. Donalds,” she said, “for you to say that—after what has happened—is magnanimous!”
“I mean it,” said he; “but I most earnestly implore you not to do it again. The risk is—appalling! It is possible—it is highly probable—that I can be of some assistance to this friend of yours, this—er—Miss Judith. Whatever I can do, Mrs. Fremby, I will—anything authorized by law,” he added a trifle anxiously.