"Hullo! It is you, after all, Iris!" Anstice noted the use of her Christian name, and in the same moment remembered there was a long-standing friendship between the families. "I thought it was your motor-cycle I found by the roadside, with a lanky yokel mounting guard over it; and he said something about an accident——"
"Nothing very serious." Iris smiled at him in friendly fashion, and his face cleared. "I skidded—or the bicycle did—and I fell off and cut my wrist."
"I found Miss Wayne sitting by the roadside binding up her wound," interposed Anstice rather coldly, "and persuaded her to come in here and have it properly seen to. If it had not been for the rain she would have been on her way home by now."
"I see. It was lucky you passed." Evidently Iris' presence prevented any display of hostility. "Well, the rain is over now, but"—he glanced at Iris' bandaged wrist—"you oughtn't to ride home if you're disabled. What do you say, Dr. Anstice?"
"I think, seeing it is the right wrist, it would be neither wise nor easy for Miss Wayne to ride," said Anstice professionally, and Cheniston nodded.
"Well, we will leave the cycle here, and send one of the men for it presently," he said. "Luckily I have got Chloe's car, and I can soon run you over, Iris. I suppose that is your motor outside?" he added, turning to Anstice with sudden briskness.
"Yes." Anstice glanced towards the window. "It is fine now, and I must be off, at any rate."
He packed the things he had used back into their little case, and turned towards the door.
"Good morning, Miss Wayne. I hope your wrist won't give you any further pain."
"Good-bye, Dr. Anstice." She held out her left hand with a smile. "Ever so many thanks. I don't know what I should have done if you had not passed just then!"