“I hope you did not tell him so!”
“My dear child, what do you think me?” cried the doctor testily. “By the way, though, he seems to thoroughly see through his companion’s character now. I can’t help wishing that he had given that confounded young cad a sound thrashing.”
“Papa!”
“Eh? No, no: of course not,” said the doctor. “I was only thinking aloud.”
Helen sat over her work a little longer, feeling happier than she had felt since Dexter left the house; and then the lights were extinguished, and father and daughter went up to bed.
The doctor was very quiet and thoughtful, and he stopped on the stairs.
“Helen, my dear,” he whispered, “see the women-servants first thing in the morning, and tell them I strictly forbid any allusion whatever to be made to Dexter’s foolish prank.”
Helen nodded.
“I’ll talk to the men myself,” he said. “And whatever you do, make Mrs Millett hold her tongue. Tut—tut—tut! Now, look at that!”
He pointed to a tumbler on a little papier-maché tray standing at Dexter’s door.