"No. It's—May I speak to you a moment? In the office? I am alarmed about—something."
She brushed past Mrs. King, who was still gaping at the suddenness of this apparition from the night, and followed the doctor into the little room on the left of the passage. Martha, deeply affronted, saw the door shut in her face.
As for Mrs. Richie, she stood panting in the darkness of the office:
"I am very much frightened. Sam Wright has just left me, and—"
William King, scratching a match under the table and fumbling with the lamp chimney, laughed. "Is that all? I thought somebody had hung himself."
"Oh, Dr. King," she cried, "I'm afraid, I'm afraid!"
He put out his friendly hand and led her to a chair. "Now, Mrs.
Richie," he said in his comforting voice, "sit down here, and get your
breath. There's nothing the matter with that scalawag, I assure you.
Has he been making himself a nuisance? I'll kick him!"
At these commonplace words, the tension broke in a rush of hysterical tears, which, while it relieved her, maddened her because for a moment she was unable to speak. But she managed to say, brokenly, that the boy had said something which frightened her, for fear that he might—
"Kill himself?" said the doctor, cheerfully, "No indeed! The people who threaten to kill themselves, never do. Come, now, forget all about him." And William, smiling, drew one of her hands down from her eyes. "Gracious! what a wrist! Did David scratch you?"
She pulled her hand away, and hid it in the folds of her skirt. "Oh, I do hope you are right; but Dr. King, he said something—and I was so frightened. Oh, if I could just know he had got home, all safe!"