Mrs. Underwood had risen and she turned her calm eyes from her husband to Leslie. "Will he?" she said placidly. Then she drew her shawl about her shoulders and walked out of the room.
Leslie exchanged a look with her father.
"I'll speak to Mrs. Bussey," she said, and with one of her characteristically swift movements, she crossed the room and threw open the door which led to the rear of the house.
"Why, Mrs. Bussey!" she exclaimed, with surprise and annoyance. That faithful servant, doubtless on the theory that her further attendance might be required, had been crouching so close to the door that the sudden opening of it left her sitting like a blinking mandarin in the open doorway. She rose somewhat stiffly to her feet, and turned a reproachful look upon her young mistress. Leslie shut the door with some emphasis, as she went out to the housekeeper's domain.
Dr. Underwood laughed softly.
"Poor old soul, it's hard on one with such an appetite for news to get nothing but the crumbs that float through the keyhole. I'm mighty glad that you are going to stay, Doctor."
"Thank you. But your giving me that title makes me uncomfortable. I am not a physician. I'm afraid I am not much of anything but a dilettante."
"You are a good Samaritan to come to the rescue of the outcast," said the doctor. "Perhaps you didn't know what an outcast I am,--or did you?" he added keenly, warned by some subtle change in Burton's face.
"On the contrary, I thought when I saw your patience to your servant that you were the good Samaritan," said Burton quickly. This old man was so sharp that it was dangerous to think before him!
The doctor's manner changed. "The poor woman is a fool, but she can't help that," he said. "We keep her for the sake of her son. Ben is a cripple,--paralyzed from a spinal injury. He has no other home. Are you to be in High Ridge for some time?"