"It's a different case altogether," said Val; "you and I are old friends—he is a stranger."
"He's not! I've known him more than five weeks! If you only came to preach, Mr. Blake, I guess you had better go back, and I'll find Mrs. Marsh's alone."
"Cherrie, I want to warn you—the less you have to do with Captain Cavendish the better. People are talking about you now."
"Let 'em talk," retorted Miss Nettleby, loftily; "when Speckport stops talking the world will come to an end. I'll just do as I please, and talk to whom I like; and if everybody minded their own business, it would be better for some folks."
With which the young lady swept away majestically, leaving Mr. Blake to turn back or follow if he pleased. He chose the former, and walked along to Dr. Leach's office. Charley was standing, looking out of the window, and whistling a tune.
"Hallo, Val!" was his greeting, "what brings you here? Want a tooth pulled, or a little bleeding, or a trifle of physic of any kind? Happy to serve you in the absence of the doctor."
"No, I don't want any physic, but I have come to give you a dose. Are you alone?"
"Quite. Leach went to visit a patient ten minutes ago. What's the matter?"
"Everything's the matter! What's this I hear you have been about lately?"
"Turning actor—do you mean that? Much obliged to you, Val, for the puff you gave me in yesterday's Spouter."