She sat down by the open window and looked up into the starlit sky. They were out tonight in countless numbers. Over there toward the northwest, lying along the tops of the trees was the Great Dipper. Wasn't it? Surely that particular curve in the handle was not to be found in any other constellation. She tried to see the Dipper itself but a cherry tree near her window blotted it out. Bend and peer as she might the branches intervened. It was tantalizing. She rose irresolute. Should she step out doors where the cherry tree would not be in the way? Not for a thousand dippers! She walked to another window. That view shut even the handle out. She looked for the Pleiades. They were not in the section of sky visible from the window where she stood. She turned and listened. Did she hear footsteps down the walk? She ought to be hearing her husband's by this time. He could not be walking at his usual gait. There he came! She went to the door looked through the screen and halted him as he drew near the steps.
“John, you'll have to take another trip. Mr. Twitchell has 'phoned for you.”
He turned and was soon out of sight. “Now! I can go to bed with a clear conscience,” and Mary sought her pillow. But she had better stay awake until he had time to get there lest Mr. Twitchell should 'phone again. In five or ten minutes the danger would be over. She waited. At last she closed her eyes to sleep. But what would be the use? In twenty minutes more her husband would come in and rouse her out of it. She had better just keep awake till he got back. And the next thing Mary heard was a snore. She opened her eyes to find it was broad daylight and her husband was sleeping soundly beside her.
CHAPTER VII.
One afternoon in June Mary went into her husband's office.
“Has The Record come?” she asked.
“Yes, it's on the table in the next room.”
She went into the adjoining room and seated herself by the table. Taking up The Record, she turned to the editorial page, but before she could begin reading she heard a voice in the office say, “How do you do, Doctor?”
“How do you do, Mr. Jenkins. Take a seat.”
“No, I guess I'll not sit down. I just wanted to get—a prescription.”