“Shall I tell the coachman to set you down there? It is directly on our way to the Emory Hospital.”
“No, tell him to drive me first to the nearest bookseller’s, and then to the next fruit shop. I mustn’t go empty-handed when I do go,” said Elfie, remorsefully.
Miss Rosenthal gave the proper directions, the coachman drove to the designated places, and Elfie made her purchases, and in due time was set down at the gate of little Mim’s cottage.
“Call and pick me up as you come back from the Emory, Erminie,” said Elfie, as she passed through the gate.
“Certainly,” smiled Miss Rosenthal as she entered the carriage, which immediately drove off.
Elfie was well received by the little old Misses Mim—all the better received because she had missed her appointment with them on the day before. It argued well for them they thought that she was not so over fond of Jim’s society, and perhaps she was not so over anxious to marry him after all, they said, nodding their heads together.
Little Mim himself welcomed his visitor with an effusion of gratitude. He stopped her apologies with his thanks, and accepted her books, and her fruit, and her company with delight.
Elfie sat two hours with him; but she refrained from mentioning the presence of Albert Goldsborough in the hospital. She refrained from two reasons: the fear of exciting the injured man, and the dread of hearing him abuse one who was now only the object of her compassion, her anxiety, and her affection.
It was late in the afternoon when Miss Rosenthal called in the carriage, paid little Mim a short visit, and then took Elfie home.
The next morning Elfie was all feverish impatience to get to the hospital where Goldsborough lay.