"I'm afraid not," William King said. "I'm very sorry." But that his sorrow was not for Maggie was evident.
"Oh, dear!" said Mrs. Richie; and then her eyes crinkled with gayety at his concern. "I don't really mind, Dr. King."
"I shouldn't blame you if you did. Nobody likes scrappy dinners. I wish you would come down and have dinner with us?"
"Oh, thank you, no," she said. And the sudden shy retreat into her habitual reserve was followed by a silence that suggested departure to the doctor. As he got up he remembered Dr. Lavendar and the little boy, but he was at a loss how to introduce the subject. In his perplexity he frowned, and Mrs. Richie said quickly:
"Of course she sha'n't do any work. I'm not so bad-tempered as you think; I only meant that I don't like discomfort."
"You bad-tempered?" he said. "No, indeed! You're just the opposite. That's why I suggested you when I heard about this boy."
"What boy?"
"Why, a little fellow of seven—David his name is—that Dr. Lavendar is trying to find a home for. And I thought perhaps you—"
"—would take him?" cried Mrs. Richie in astonishment, and then she laughed. "I!"
"Why, it occurred to me that perhaps you might be lonely, and—"