She leaned back in her corner of the carriage, blushing but resentful, a line between her brows. “It wouldn’t be any use,� she said. “I—I couldn’t make him feel welcome there.�
“You mean that Cousin Jacob would insult him,� Dr. Cheyney said bluntly.
She stiffened. “I should protect my own guests,� she retorted hotly.
“Could you?� asked the doctor dryly.
Diana met his eyes indignantly; then a throb of pain in her ankle made her wince.
“I reckon it does hurt, Di.� The old man smiled compassionately. “I’ll bandage it when we get you home. Don’t be capering off your horse again in thunder-storms.�
“I’d be sure to break my neck next time, I suppose,� she said ruefully.
“Let it be a leg, Di,� advised the doctor, “that would give me a job; the other would all go to the undertaker. He told me once,� he added, with a twinkle, “that we worked so much together we ought to have a common interest. I believe he wanted to found a trust—‘doctors’ and undertakers’ amalgamated protected’—or something of that sort. I begged off on the ground of injury to my profession. I told him it wouldn’t do for a poor man like me to go into a trust with a rich planter.�
“Dr. Cheyney,� Diana interrupted, “I don’t want you to think that Jacob Eaton rules our house; he has more influence with father than I wish he had, but he can’t rule father.�
“I suppose you’ll marry him in the end,� William Cheyney remarked reflectively.