They obeyed. Half an hour later he appeared in the parlor, serene, cheery, clothed in sunshine, conducting Helen, with his arm about her waist, petting her, and saying gentle and playful things to her; and she also was her sunny and happy self again.
“Now, then;” he said, “good-by, dear. Go to your room, and keep away from your mother, and behave yourself. But wait—put out your tongue. There, that will do—you're as sound as a nut!” He patted her cheek and added, “Run along now; I want to talk to these aunts.”
She went from the presence. His face clouded over again at once; and as he sat down he said:
“You too have been doing a lot of damage—and maybe some good. Some good, yes—such as it is. That woman's disease is typhoid! You've brought it to a show-up, I think, with your insanities, and that's a service—such as it is. I hadn't been able to determine what it was before.”
With one impulse the old ladies sprang to their feet, quaking with terror.
“Sit down! What are you proposing to do?”
“Do? We must fly to her. We—”
“You'll do nothing of the kind; you've done enough harm for one day. Do you want to squander all your capital of crimes and follies on a single deal? Sit down, I tell you. I have arranged for her to sleep; she needs it; if you disturb her without my orders, I'll brain you—if you've got the materials for it.”
They sat down, distressed and indignant, but obedient, under compulsion. He proceeded:
“Now, then, I want this case explained. They wanted to explain it to me—as if there hadn't been emotion or excitement enough already. You knew my orders; how did you dare to go in there and get up that riot?”