"You have been there to see a patient?" questioned Daisy, hardly knowing and certainly not caring what she did say.
"Yes," replied Frank. "But she is better this morning; so I am off to others who want me more than she does."
"Is it that Mrs. Bell from Trennach? I saw a bottle of medicine directed to West Street for her one day. Sam was putting it into his basket."
"It is Mrs. Bell. She is worse than she used to be, for the disorder has made progress. And I fear she will grow worse, day by day now, until the end."
"What a hypocrite he is!" thought Daisy: "I dare say there is as much the matter with her as there is with me. Of course he needs some plea of excuse—to be going there for ever after that wretched girl."
"Do you come here pretty often?" went on Daisy, coughing to conceal the spleen in her tone, which she was unable to suppress.
"I shall have to come here oftener in future, I fear," returned Frank, not directly answering the question; of which delay she took due note. Just for these few minutes, he had slackened his pace to hers, and they were walking side by side. "I am glad she is near me: I don't think any stranger would give her the care that I shall give her."
"You speak as though you were anxious about her!" resentfully cried Daisy.
"I am more than anxious. I would give half I am worth to be able to cure her."
"Well, I'm sure!" exclaimed Daisy. "One would think you and these people must possess some bond of union in common."