“Has Davie told you? Oh! Violet, what will Aunt Mary think of papa?”
But Violet could not trust herself to speak of Davie’s trouble to him. She was too angry with his father; and, besides, she was too startled by Frank’s pale looks to be able to think, for the moment, of any one but him.
“Are you ill, Frank? Are your eyes worse? What have you been doing to them?”
For Frank had dropped his head down on his hands again.
“Yes, they are worse. I was out in the rain, and caught cold. I was not strong enough to go, I suppose. Phil, sent me back with some people who were coming down. He would have come himself, but, of course, I couldn’t let him.”
“You would have done better to come to Gourlay with us,” said Violet.
“Yes, even without Jem or Davie. I wish I had gone.”
“Come with me to-morrow,” said Violet, earnestly. “Mamma will be very glad to see you.”
But Frank shook his head sadly.
“I cannot, Violet. I should be ashamed to look Aunt Mary in the face—after—”