Mr. Denner opened his eyes and looked at him. "Good Lord," he said, "ah—yes—yes—that is enough, my friend. Good Lord; one leaves the rest."
Dr. Howe walked home with a strange look on his face. He answered his daughter briefly, that Mr. Denner was failing, and then, going into his library, he moved a table from in front of the door, which always stood hospitably open, and shut and locked it.
"What's the matter with the doctor?" asked Dick Forsythe, lounging up to the rectory porch, his hands in his pockets and his hat on the back of his head. "I walked behind him all the way from the village; he looked, as though some awful thing had happened, and he walked as if he was possessed."
"Oh, Mr. Denner's worse," Lois answered tearfully.
Mr. Forsythe had found her on the porch, and, in spite of her grief, she looked nervously about for some one to save her from a tête-à-tête.
Dick seemed as anxious as she. "No, I won't sit down, thank you. Mother just wanted to know if you'd run in this afternoon a few minutes," and any one less frightened than Lois must have seen that he wished his mother had chosen another messenger.
"Is she—is she pretty comfortable?" the girl said, pulling a rose to pieces, and looking into the cool, dark hall for a third person; but there was only Max, lying fast asleep under the slender-legged table, which held a blue bowl full of peonies, rose, and white, and deep glowing red.
Dick also glanced towards the door. "Oh, yes, she'll be all right. Ah—unfortunately, I can't stay very long in Ashurst, but she'll be all right, I'm sure. You'll cheer her up when I'm gone, Miss Howe?"
Lois felt herself grow white. A sudden flash of hope came into her mind, and then fear. What did it mean? Was he going because he dared not ask her, or would his mother tell him that he would surely succeed? Oh, her promise!
Her breath came quick, and Mr. Forsythe saw it, "Yes," he said, stammering with embarrassment, "I—I fear I shall have to go—ah—important business."