“I am glad to see you better,” she said. “But you mustn’t sit up yet—not till you have had three days without a temperature. The doctor says so.”
“I will be very good,” Frances promised. “But do you think I might have my bed pushed near the window? I should so love to look out.”
Dolly considered the request judicially for a moment or two. She was recognized commander-in-chief in the sick-room. “We’ll see about it,” she said. “But it’s a heavy bed to move and has no castors. Still—we’ll see.”
She smiled upon Frances and proceeded with her toilet with her usual ready deftness.
Then she departed, and Frances heard her cheery voice calling for Oliver.
Through the window she heard a man’s voice reply. “Oliver’s gone to put the pigs in the cart for market. What do you want him for?”
“Oh, it’s all right; you’ll do,” said Dolly, still brisk and cheery. “Just come along and help me to move Miss Thorold’s bed! She has a fancy for lying in the sunshine.”
There was no answer to that save a grunt, and a moment later the sound of a pipe being tapped against the side of the step. Frances felt a quick flush rising in her face. She wished with all her heart that she could have restrained Dolly’s well-meaning arrangement as she heard the sound of a man’s tread upon the stairs.
Dolly re-entered, looking well pleased with herself. “Here’s Arthur come to move you,” she said. “He’s strong enough.”
Arthur entered behind her. His great frame with its broad shoulders filled the narrow doorway. He looked straight at her, and she thought his look was oddly lowering, even challenging.