“I’m going back to Kansas soon.”
“Wim me?”
“I should like to. Let’s go together.”
Leigh slid quickly from the chair and ran inside, where Doctor Carey heard her clear childish voice saying, “He is going to Kansas, too, Miss Jane. He says he loves you. His name is Horace, and he’s mery nice. He’s not mery pretty, though, but you love him, too, don’t you, Miss Jane?”
Evidently the child was close to Miss Jane, for the doctor heard something like a kiss and low words that seemed to send her away on some errand. Presently he caught sight of a sunny head and two big blue eyes and a little hand beckoning to him, as Leigh peeped around the corner of the house.
“Miss Jane says I mustn’t talk too much and mustn’t call you Horace, but just Doctor Carey. Won’t you come with me to get flowers for supper?”
The two strolled together into the old flower garden where verbenas and phlox and late asters and early chrysanthemums and a few monthly roses under Miss Jane’s 162 careful covering had weathered the first frosts. Leigh knew each plant and shrub, and gave out information freely.
“Would you rather stay with Miss Jane?”
Doctor Carey knew he should not ask the question, but it came anyhow.
“Oh, no, I want to go to my Uncle Jim.” Leigh settled the matter once for all.