As they neared the house, they saw a very pretty sight. The girl of whom they had been talking, looking more then ever like a gypsy in the costume she had worn when she had first arrived, was dancing up and down the paths of the glowing garden shaking her tambourine, as she had danced on that never-to-be-forgotten day when she had been there with little Tirol. Nearby on a bench the younger Miss Barrington sat with her lace crochet now and then dropping it to her lap to smile at the girl. Suddenly she called. “Nan, dearie, the company has come.” The girl dropped to a marble bench, but a side glance toward the drive showed her that both the doctor and the boy had witnessed her performance.
“I don’t care, Miss Dahlia,” she said, tossing her dark hair back and out of her eyes, “I put this dress on purposely that Robert Widdemere might see I’m not ashamed that I am a gypsy. I’m proud, proud, proud because I belong to Manna Lou.”
“Of course you are, dearie,” the gentle little woman rose and advanced to greet the newcomers.
“Doctor Wainridge,” she said, “I’m so glad that you have come to meet our dear adopted daughter. It was a real regret to me that you were out of town at the time of the accident, if something which results in great joy and happiness can be called by so formidable a name. And this,” she held out a slender white hand toward the glowing girl, “is our Nan.”
The doctor, whose broad-brimmed black felt was under one arm, shook hands with Miss Dahlia and then with the girl. Turning, he beamed on the lad as he said, “Surely, Miss Barrington, you remember this boy, although you may not have seen him recently.”
“Indeed I do! Robert, how you have grown.” Then noting his pale face, she said with kindly solicitude, “You are not yet strong. Shall we go into the house? Would it not be more comfortable there?”
But the doctor, after glancing at his watch replied: “I fear that I cannot remain today, as I have other patients to see, but if you are willing to entertain your young neighbor, I will return for him in just one hour.”
Robert’s face brightened. “That’s great of you, doctor, to leave me in so pleasant a place.” Then turning to Miss Dahlia who was looking at him pityingly, he confessed. “I’m bored to death at home with that specter of a nurse watching over me for all the world like a vulture swinging around the head of some poor creature that it expects is soon to die.”
The doctor had been glancing about. There was a summer house near in which there were comfortably cushioned rustic chairs and a table. It was where Miss Dahlia and Nan had their daily lessons.
“That would be a pleasant place for you children to go for a real visit, isn’t it?” he suggested. Miss Dahlia nodded smilingly and Nan led the way to the summer house. Miss Dahlia then walked at the doctor’s side toward his car as she wished to ask his advice about her headaches.