The questions poured thick and fast and Mr. Clark seemed distinctly taken aback by the excitement he had created.
"Why, Dr. Watkins said that he thought she wasn't going to stay with Elisabeth much longer. That's what I understood him to say. I don't think I'm mistaken," and the old gentleman passed his hand nervously over the top of his head.
"That's perfectly terrible if it's really so," declared Ethel Blue, who was an especial admirer of Gertrude Merriam's and a devout believer in her ability to turn Elisabeth from a skeleton into a robust little maiden.
"We must find out at once," and Ethel Brown put Elisabeth into her coat with a speed that so disregarded all orderly procedure as to bring a frown to the young Belgian's brow.
The two girls talked about the news in low, horrified tones on the way back to Dorothy's, and down they sat, prepared not only to amuse Elisabeth but to amuse her until the return of Miss Merriam, no matter how late that proved to be.
It seemed an eternity but it was only half past five when she and Mrs. Smith came back. The Ethels sat before the fire in the sitting room like judges on the bench. They made their accusation promptly. Gertrude sat down as if her knees were unable to support her. Her blue eyes stared amazedly from one to the other.
"Mr. Clark says I am going away? That Dr. Watkins said he thought I was going away?"
Her complete wonderment proved her not guilty.
"But I'm not going away! I haven't any idea of going away—unless you want me to," and she turned appealingly to Mrs. Smith.
"My dear child, of course we don't want you to," and Mrs. Smith bent and kissed her. "We love you dearly and we like your work. I can't think what Mr. Clark could have meant—or Dr. Watkins—"