“Thank you, madam,” he said, bowing low. “Your guest has just called me a fool and now you call me a goose. I bid you good-by.”
“Good-by, indeed! Andy McLean, sit down here and let me send for your father. I believe my soul you are in a fever or something.” Molly pushed him down in a chair near the fire. “Why, Andy, your coat is damp! Where have you been?”
She drew a chair by him and seated herself, looking anxiously into his flushed face. Andy laughed in a hard tone.
“Perhaps you are right, but don’t send for Father. I got my coat wet in a perfectly sane way, but perhaps you had better find out about that from Mrs. Fl—Nance—I mean.”
Andy balked at that name of Mrs. Flint and then, besides, Nance had called him a fool when he had hinted at the doctor’s being the happy man. At this juncture little Mildred came running into the library.
“Mumsy! Mumsy! Is you heard ’bout me an’ the blue boat?”
“No, darling! But what makes your curls so wet?”
“That was that baddest blue boat. It wouldn’t stay still ’til I got in—it jes’ moved and moved—an’ the little wooden street, it moved an’ moved an’ I went kerblim! kersplash!”
“In the lake! Oh, Mildred! I know you didn’t mind Aunt Nance. Are you cold? Did Aunt Nance get wet? Where is Dodo?”
“You ’fuses me with so many ain’t’s an’ do’s and didn’t’s.”