“No, my dear, only that Master George rang for the spirits, and I’ve taken ’em down the garden where they’re sitting under the big cedar.”
“They?”
“Yes, my dear, Mr Saul’s there. He saw him in the garden, I s’pose, and didn’t come up to the house. And I thought, perhaps, a word from you might keep him out of temptation, my dear; for them spirits do tempt him.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll go, Denton,” said Gertrude quickly; and she hurried down the garden, her steps inaudible on the closely shorn lawn, and came round behind the bushes in time to lay her hand upon that of the would-be suicide.
“What the dev—”
“George, dear.”
“Oh, it’s you, Gertie. Well, what’s the matter?”
“Mr Saul Harrington,” said the girl, flushing, as she turned upon the visitor, “have you forgotten Doctor Lawrence’s words?”
“I? Oh, no,” said Saul uneasily, “but doctors exaggerate, and dear George here is all the better for a refreshing draught.”
“It is not true,” she retorted angrily. “George, dear, indeed, indeed it is not good for you.”