Hayden mentally contrasted her slender, delicate appearance and the housekeeper’s tall angular, raw boned frame and silently agreed with her; the contrast was too great to admit of argument.
“Tell me, Evelyn,” and he, too, sunk his voice. “Exactly when did Mrs. Ward join you here yesterday?”
“I found her standing in the vestibule just after I discovered that poor dead man upstairs; in fact when I was on my way to you. Frankly,” Evelyn smiled apologetically, “my first impulse was to get out of the house.”
“A very natural impulse,” said a voice behind them and wheeling about Hayden saw Maynard approaching. “Sorry to startle you, Evelyn,” the latter added as she spilled her tea in her sudden jump. “I am so accustomed to these rubber heels that I forget others are not. Afternoon, Hayden. How’s your patient?”
“She is much better.” The physician moved back to make room for Maynard who paused long enough to drag forward a large arm chair and seated himself next to Evelyn.
“Good,” he exclaimed in response to Hayden’s statement, and at the sympathetic inflection and the hearty ring in his voice Evelyn brightened. Maynard’s robust personality brought a touch of the out-of-doors into the room and dispelled her morbid thoughts. “Burnham asked me to tell you, Evelyn, that he would not be here for tea. He is greatly concerned about Mrs. Ward,” Maynard continued, addressing Hayden. “Seemed to think last night from her rambling talk that she was in for a long illness, brain fever, or something.”
Hayden smiled. “Nothing like that,” he said. “Mrs. Ward will soon be on her feet again, little the worse for her upset.”
“I hope so truly,” exclaimed Evelyn, handing Maynard his cup and a biscuit. “Not only for her sake, but because Mother is so dependent upon her.”
“Has Mrs. Ward been with you long?” inquired Maynard.
“A little over three years.” Evelyn paused to consider. “She came to us about six months before Mother’s marriage to Mr. Burnham; I was at boarding school that winter.”