“I'll ask him.”
Sidney ran to the front door and called: “Will you come in for a cup of tea?”
“Tea! Good Heavens, no. Hurry.”
As Sidney turned back into the house, she met Palmer. He had come out in the hall, and had closed the door into the parlor behind him. His arm was still in splints, and swung suspended in a gay silk sling.
The sound of laughter came through the door faintly.
“How is he to-day?” He meant Johnny, of course. The boy's face was always with him.
“Better in some ways, but of course—”
“When are they going to operate?”
“When he is a little stronger. Why don't you come into see him?”
“I can't. That's the truth. I can't face the poor youngster.”