Little Dr. Fisher, who administered restoratives and waited on Mrs. Vanderburgh and her daughter to their London train, came skipping back to the Liverpool hotel.
"I hope, wife, I sha'n't grow uncharitable,"—he actually glared through his big spectacles,—"but Heaven defend us on our travels from any further specimens like that woman."
"We shall meet all sorts, probably, Adoniram," said his wife, calmly; "it really doesn't matter with our party of eight; we can take solid comfort together."
The little doctor came out of his ill temper, but he said ruefully, "That's all very well, wife, for you and the Hendersons; for you steered pretty clear, I noticed, of that woman. Well, she's gone." And he smiled cheerfully. "Now for dinner, for I suppose Mr. King has ordered it."
"Yes, he has," said his wife. "And you have a quarter of an hour. I've put your clothes out all ready."
"All right." The little doctor was already plunging here and there, tearing off his coat and necktie and boots; and exactly at the time set, he joined the party, with a bright and shining face, as if no Mrs. Vanderburgh, or any one in the least resembling her, had ever crossed his path.
"Jasper," cried Polly, as they hurried along out of the Harwich train to the steamer that was to take them to the Hook of Holland, "can you really believe we are almost there?"
* * * * *
"No, I can't," said Jasper, "for I've wanted to see Holland for such a time."
"Wasn't it good of Grandpapa," cried Polly, "to take us here the first thing after London?"