The two girls came down together dressed to go out. But they parted at the gate, as their paths lay in opposite directions.
Erminie entered the little carriage that was to take her first to the Douglas Hospital.
Elfie walked rapidly towards Pennsylvania Avenue, where she stopped a Navy Yard car, which took her to the eastern suburbs of the city.
She got out of the car at the corner of a quiet street, mostly built up in small, detached houses, with small flower yards before them.
Elfie walked briskly on until she reached a little cottage in a large garden full of fruit trees, where Mim lived with his maiden aunts, four little bits of old ladies, with thin faces and fair hair and blue eyes, who were as “like as peas in a pod” to each other and to Mim himself, who loved them sincerely, and who supported them willingly off his small salary as salesman in a fancy bazaar. “They had all lived single for his sake, and brought him up from a baby,” said credulous little Mim, “and now he would live single for their sakes, and take care of them in their age.”
Elfie, in her eagerness, pulled open the garden gate, and ran up the walk and rang the bell.
One of the little old ladies opened the door.
“Oh, Miss Suzy, how is Mr. Mim? And can I see him?” the visitor exclaimed.
“Oh, Miss Elfie, I am so glad to see you back safe. And Mim is much better, thank you. And of course you can see him immediately, for I do think the sight of you will quite set him up. But maybe I’d better go and break it to him first. His poor head is rather weak yet, and a sudden shock might bring on the fever again.”
“Yes, I think you had better do so, Miss Suzy, and I will wait here until you come back.”