“What’s that?” he asked sharply.
“It’s a present that Miss Therne here has brought for Tottie,” answered the mother.
“Then Tottie mustn’t eat them till she is well. Sugar is bad for whooping-cough, though, of course, a young lady couldn’t be expected to know that,” he added in a voice of gruff apology, then went on quickly, glancing at the little girl’s arm, “No marks, I see. Conscientious Objector? Or only lazy?”
Then Mrs. Smith fired up and poured out her own sad history and that of her poor little brother who died, baring her scarred arm in proof of it.
“And so,” she finished, “though I do not remember much about it myself, I do remember my mother’s dying words, which were ‘to mind what the doctor had told her, and never to have any child of mine vaccinated, no, not if they crawled on their knees to ask it of me.’”
“The doctor!” said Merchison with scorn, “you mean the idiot, my good woman, or more likely the political agitator who would sell his soul for a billet.”
Then Jane rose in wrath.
“I beg your pardon for interrupting you, sir,” she said, “but the gentleman you speak of as an idiot or a political agitator is Dr. Therne, my father, the member of Parliament for this city.”
Dr. Merchison stared at her for a long while, and indeed when she was angry Jane was beautiful enough to make any one stare, then he said simply, “Oh, indeed. I don’t meddle with politics, so I didn’t know.”
This was too much for Jane, who, afraid to trust herself to further speech, walked straight out of the cottage. She had passed down the model garden and arrived at the model gate when she heard a quick powerful step behind her, and turned round to find herself face to face with Dr. Merchison.