Gard's heart sank. "Dear me! That's bad news. How long will your mother be gone?"
"Oh, just the voyage and straight home again. But do come in this afternoon and have tea; perhaps you could persuade her to stay a week there--she won't obey me."
"They are very insubordinate in the Old Ladies' Home. I'll drop in this afternoon. Good-by, my dear."
He hung up the receiver and glowered. "Not well! Mrs. Marteen in the doctor's care!" He could not associate her perfection with illness of any kind. It gave him a distinct pang, and for the first time a feeling of protective tenderness. This instantly translated itself into a lavish order of violets, and a mental note to see that, her stateroom was made beautiful for her voyage.
Adding his signature to the pile of letters that Saunders handed him served to pass the moments till he could officially declare himself free for the day and be driven to the abode of the two beings who had so absorbed his interest.
He found Mrs. Marteen reclining on a chaise-longue in her library-sitting room, the Pekinese spaniel in her lap and Dorothy by her side. She looked weary, but not ill, and Gard felt a glow of comfort.
"Dear lady, I came at once. Dorothy advised me of your impending journey, and led me to believe you were not well. But I am reassured--you do not seem a drooping flower."
Mrs. Marteen laughed. "How 1830! Couldn't you put it into a madrigal? It really is absurd, though, sending me off like this. But they threatened me with nerves--fancy that--nerves! And never having had an attack of that sort, of course I'm terrified. I shall leave my butterfly in good hands, however. My sister is to take my place; and I sha'n't be gone long, you know."
"We hope not, don't we, Dorothy? What boat do you honor, and what date?"
Mrs. Marteen hesitated. "I'm not sure. The Bermudian sails this week. If I cannot go then, and that is possible, I may take the Cecelia, and make the Caribbean trip. It's a little longer, but on my return I would join Dorothy and Mrs. Trevor, crossing directly from Bermuda to Florida. It's absurd, isn't it, to play the invalid! But insomnia is really getting its hold on me. A good sleep would be a novelty just now, and bromides depress me, so--there you are! I suppose I must take the doctor's advice and my maid, and fly for my health's sake."