Rachel, tall and sardonic, stood patiently by until the little man recovered from his ecstasies.
“I thought you were staying with my—with Mrs. Fairfax,” he said, gazing at her in amazement. He was holding Phoebe in his arms, and she was so heavy that his face was purple from the exertion.
“You’d better put her down,” said Rachel, mildly. “She’s not a baby any longer.” With that she proceeded to pull the child’s skirts down over the unnecessarily exposed pink legs. Harvey was not loath to set her down, a bit abruptly if the truth must be told. “Mrs. Fairfax is still in the drawing-room, sir. She doesn’t want to get off until the crowd has moved out.”
Harvey stared. “She’s—on—the—train?”
“We change for the Santa Fe, which leaves this evening for the West. I’ll go back to her now. The way is quite clear, I think. Good-bye, Phoebe. Be a good––”
He stopped, aghast, petrified
“I’m going with you!” cried Harvey, breathlessly. “Take me to the car.”