Major Dale was at his wits' end. He feared the old captain would be beyond consolation if he did not do as he had promised—send Miss Pumfret to him at once.
Dorothy was just on the stairs. At a glance she understood that her father had failed to bring about a reconciliation between Captain Mayberry and his sister. She approached them.
"You are Miss Pumfret, I know," she began, without waiting for her father's introduction. "Isn't it perfectly splendid?—the news from Captain Mayberry, I mean. He seemed as pleased as a child when I promised him a merry Christmas, and to-morrow morning I am going into the hospital to make sure he gets it. Won't you come with me? He will be delighted to see you, I am sure."
Miss Pumfret looked at the impetuous girl who was going to make sure her brother had a merry Christmas.
"You see," hurried on Dorothy, taking advantage of the moment to further press her request, "we just had the place ready for him. We gave a play, and had a new bed at our disposal."
"My brother a charity patient!" exclaimed the woman. "Why, there's plenty of money in the property, but I won't touch pen to paper to sign——"
"Of course, we can take care of him," interrupted Dorothy; "but I thought maybe you would like to make him a little Christmas present—it is visiting day to-morrow and the day before Christmas."
Little Miss Pumfret glared at Dorothy. Then she stepped back and sank down on the hall seat. "Well," she exclaimed finally, "I'm an old-fashioned woman. Never was used to youngsters' interference, but I like your cheek (this was said with evident sincerity and no idea of being frivolous). I've just a good mind——"
"Oh, do, do, Miss Pumfret! Come with me to-morrow and tell him you will sell Tanglewood Park and—fix it all up——"
"How you do race on! But it's getting late. Perhaps——"