“Yes. I'm very sorry your friend is so ill.”
Selwyn's face clouded over.
“I'd like to see him again,” he answered simply. “We haven't met for some years—not since my wife's health brought me to Monkshaven—but we were good pals at one time, he and I. Luckily, I've been able to arrange with Dr. Mitchell to include my patients in his round, and if you'll take charge of everything here at home, Sara, I shall have nothing to worry about while I'm away.”
“Of course I will. It's very nice of you to entrust your family to my care so confidently.”
“Quite confidently,” he replied. “I'm not afraid of anything going wrong if you're at the helm.”
“How long do you expect to be away?” asked Sara presently.
“A couple of days at the outside. I hope to get back the day after to-morrow.”
Denuded of Selwyn's big, kindly presence, the house seemed curiously silent. Even Jane Crab appeared to feel the effect of his absence, and strove less forcefully with her pots and pans—which undoubtedly made for an increase of peace and quiet—while Molly was frankly depressed, stealing restlessly in and out of the rooms like some haunting shadow.
“What on earth's the matter with you?” Sara asked her laughingly. “Hasn't your father ever been away from home before? You're wandering about like an uneasy spirit!”
“I am an uneasy spirit,” responded Molly bluntly. “I feel as though I'd a cold coming on, and I always like Dad to doctor me when I'm ill.”