“I will try and be as hopeful as you are, dear Mrs Bolter; but it is very hard!”
“Bless the child! I did not think she felt so warm an affection for Helen Perowne,” thought Mrs Bolter; “but it shows how good a heart she has.”
Then aloud:
“Oh, how tiresome! Here is that dreadful Mrs Barlow coming!”
“Say I’m out, my dear,” whispered the doctor, hurriedly. “I’ll slip round through the surgery.”
“I cannot say you are out, Henry,” said the little lady, reprovingly; “but I will say that you are particularly engaged.”
“Yes, my dear—an operation,” whispered the doctor.
“I shall say nothing of the kind, Harry!” exclaimed Mrs Bolter, sternly.
“But she will want to see me, and describe her symptoms.”
“Then she cannot see you,” replied the little lady, with dignity. “I will take care of that.”