Theodore, from the shadow of the curtains, stared at the delicate face of his cousin. "Why is the doctor coming?"
"Oh, I quite forgot what I came up to tell you about," said Mara in a matter-of-fact tone. "Father has broken his leg."
"Broken his leg!" With a groan of pain Theodore hoisted himself on one elbow. "How did he do that?"
"The horse slipped coming down the winding road. Jarvis could not hold him up and they all fell over the bank. Father tried to get out, and broke his leg. But Jarvis and the horse are all right," ended Mara cheerfully.
"I don't believe you are sorry," said Theodore, angered at her indifference.
"I don't see what is the use of crying over spilt milk," replied the girl calmly. "If I cried my eyes out and tore my hair, it would do father no good."
"You might at least pretend to be sorry for him," growled Dane, sinking back.
"Well, I am. It's horrid to suffer pain. I'll tell him I'm sorry."
"If you tell him in that voice he'll box your ears," said Theodore grimly. "You don't display much sorrow for me, young lady."
"Because I don't feel any," said Mara coolly. "You brought it on yourself, for I told you that Basil loved Patricia. Besides, I don't like you."