"I wish I could get a few more days' holiday," said Bill ruefully. "My number's up this afternoon."
The letters he had to write could go to blazes—of course he meant to spend each of the precious minutes that remained in the next few hours with Bubbles!
"You'll be able to escort old Miss Burnaby to town, for Helen's staying on," went on Blanche.
"Helen staying on?" exclaimed Bubbles. "I'm glad of that! Oh, and Sir Lyon's staying on, too?"
She suddenly gave one of her funny, eerie little chuckles; but she made no other comment.
"Yes," called out Blanche. "And Dr. Panton's going—so I've a good many little things to see to."
Bill sprang to the door, and opened it for her.
As it shut she heard Bubbles' voice, and it was a voice Blanche Farrow hardly knew. "Are you really sorry you're going away from your little kid, Bill?"
Blanche sighed sharply. After all, so she told herself, there is something to be said for love's young dream.