“I am sorry, but I must give it,” said Leslie. “Dear Marjorie, how she will feel it. I must go and inquire after Eileen immediately.”
“I thought you were not well yourself.”
“I have a headache, but what does that matter? I must go to see Marjorie immediately, and to hear about Eileen.”
“If you want to make your inquiries properly,” said Belle, “go by the underground. It is so hot that you will feel yourself a real martyr. Put on your thickest coat and your heaviest hat, and then you will really enjoy yourself. Good-by: I am going away, as I see it is your wish. I will come another day when you feel more like the Leslie Gilroy whom I used to admire at St. Wode’s.”
“I will never be the Leslie that you admired if you wish me not to give sympathy to those in trouble,” replied Leslie.
She ran upstairs, put on her hat, took up her gloves, and went out.
[CHAPTER XXIV—THE TWINS.]
Leslie arrived at the Chetwynds’ house to see the street outside covered with straw. The knocker to the door was muffled. She rang the bell. The footman replied to her summons, said that Miss Eileen was very ill indeed, and that he did not believe the young lady could be admitted, but if she particularly wished it, he would go and inquire.
He was just stepping on tiptoe across the hall when a face was pushed outside a sitting-room door, and the next moment Lettie rushed up to Leslie.
“Oh, do come in, Leslie,” she cried. “I am so lonely and miserable, and it would be an immense comfort to see anyone. Yes, Eileen is very ill, very ill indeed. The doctor says that the typhoid is running a most severe course, and there are complications, a chance of pneumonia, if you know what that means. Come in, do. I know Aunt Helen won’t mind my asking you in, and as to Marjorie——”