"Hello! Doreen, what's up? Had a row with Dudley? Or what?"
"I have had no 'row' with any one," answered the girl, very quietly. "But—you must all know all about it presently, so you may as well hear it at once—Dudley has gone away."
"What?"
Max stopped in the act of trying for a carom, and stared at his sister.
"Why, he only came when I did, ten minutes ago!"
"He's gone, I tell you!" repeated Doreen, stamping her foot. "And—and listen, Max, I'm frightened about him! He's got something on his mind. When he went away, I saw him; I was standing by the gate; he looked so—so dreadful that I didn't dare to speak to him. I! Think of that!"
"Had papa been speaking to him?" put in the shrewd younger sister, who was chalking her cue at the other end of the room.
The younger sister always sees most of the game.
"Ye—es, but—I don't know—I hardly think it was that," answered Doreen quickly. "At any rate, Max, I want you to do this for me; I want you to go up to town to-morrow and see him. I shan't rest until I know he's—he's all right—after what I saw of his face and the look on it. Now, you will do this, won't you, won't you? Without saying anything to anybody, mind. Queenie, you can hold your tongue, too. Now, Max, there's a dear, you'll do it, won't you?"
Max told her that she was "off her head," that he could do no good, and so on. But he ended in giving way to the will of his handsome sister, whom he adored.