"Mrs. Carstairs"—Anstice, feeling desperately uncomfortable, broke into the conversation abruptly—"may I go upstairs and say good-night to Cherry? You know I got into serious trouble for not going up the last time I was here."
She turned to him, smiling.
"Of course you may, Dr. Anstice. I know Cherry would be heart-broken to hear you had gone without seeing her. You know the way?"
"Yes, thanks." He had grown familiar with the house during the weeks of Cherry's illness. "I won't stay long—and I'll not wake her if she's asleep."
She was not asleep, however; and her face lighted with pleasure as Anstice stole quietly in.
"Oh, do come in, my dear!" She sat up in bed, a quaint little figure with two thick brown plaits, tied with cherry-coloured ribbons, over her shoulders. "I'm just about fed up with this stupid old bed!"
She thumped her pillows resentfully; and Anstice, coming up, sat down beside her, and beat up the offending pillows with the mock professional touch which Cherry adored.
"That better, eh?"
"Rather!" She leaned back luxuriously. "Wasn't it a shame sending me to bed to-day? And I hadn't really done nothing!" The intensity of the speech called for the double negation.
"Well, I don't know what you call nothing," returned Anstice, smiling. "Apparently you'd given poor Tochatti a terrible fright——"