“Let it be, my girl,� the old man counseled; “we can’t enter the upper chamber of the soul, you know. David’s got to fight it out. Sometimes�—the doctor let the reins go so slack that old Henk walked—“sometimes grief is like a raw cut, Diana, and we can’t put in a few stitches either; got to leave that to Providence.�
“He isn’t well,� Diana insisted.
“He’d be no better for my meddling,� Dr. Cheyney retorted, unmoved.
“I wanted him to go East with me,� she continued, “to go to New York.�
Dr. Cheyney glanced up quickly. “And he wouldn’t?�
Diana shook her head.
“Don’t you ask it,� cautioned the old man. “It’s the time of year when your father’s full of notions; let him be.�
“The time of year�—Diana met the doctor’s kindly eyes—“when mother died?�
William Cheyney turned red. The girl, looking at him, saw the dull red stealing up to the old man’s white hair and wondered.
“Yes,� he said.