“Desborough!” she exclaimed. “It’s malaria. I thought so yesterday, and now I know it. You’ve got to get out of here. It’s a nasty, unwholesome place.”
“But perhaps—” said her nephew, terribly crestfallen.
“There’s no ‘perhaps’ about it,” she declared sharply. “I know all about malaria.” She was silent for a moment; then her brows drew together in a severe frown.[Pg 406]
“That girl!” she remarked. “Just look at that!”
He looked where she pointed, and there, on the chair, he saw a tray. The antique china, the lace handkerchiefs—A great pain seized his heart.
“Mi—Miss Dexter—” he began.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Boles. “She brought me some tea. And just look how she fixed up that tray!”
Anger arose in him. He wouldn’t listen to a word against Mimi.
“It seems to me Miss Dexter has—” he began again, but once more Mrs. Boles interrupted him.
“I never in my life had any one take so much trouble for me,” she announced. “Bread—cut out star-shaped. Her own little handkerchiefs. No, I never.”