‘You’re sorry that we are not any iller, aren’t you, Dr. Hurst?’ she remarked.
‘Eh? What?’ said the Doctor, taken aback. ‘I–I don’t know what you are talking about.’
‘Well, you always look as though you would like us so much better if we really had scarlet fever instead of only waiting for it,’ explained Babs, pleasantly. ‘Would you like us better, Dr. Hurst, if we really had scarlet fever?’
She had so nearly guessed the truth with her quick, impish perception, that the Doctor dropped her hand abruptly and passed on to Angela. ‘There doesn’t seem to be much the matter with any of you,’ he said, by way of conducting the conversation on strict medical lines. He looked so cross about it, however, that the attempt did not prosper. Barbara, in the innocence of her heart, thought he needed cheering up.
‘Are you coming to the display, Dr. Hurst?’ she asked politely.
‘The–I beg your pardon?’ he murmured, staring hard at his watch.
‘The gymnastic display at the end of the term, when we’re going to compete for the Canon’s prize, you know,’ proceeded Barbara. ‘Everybody’s coming–Jill too! So you will, won’t you, Dr. Hurst?’
‘Really, I don’t know,’ answered the Doctor; and he dropped Angela’s hand just as hastily, and passed on to Jean Murray. Babs looked a little puzzled for a moment, and then her face cleared.
‘Oh, of course, you don’t like Jill! I’d forgotten that,’ she remarked with a smile. ‘But that doesn’t matter, because you needn’t sit next to her, need you? I don’t think Jill would mind your not sitting next to her,’ she added reflectively.
The Doctor began to wish very heartily that he had accepted Miss Finlayson’s offer to let one of the teachers accompany him from the house, and he prepared to beat a speedy retreat. But Angela, in her bland and tactless manner, put the finishing touch to his embarrassment and cut off his retirement.