“Oh, I beg your pardon,” she exclaimed, a wave of color sweeping over her pale face.
“Why are you hurrying so fast on Saturday?” he asked pleasantly. “Don’t you ever give yourself a holiday?”
“Oh, yes; lots of them,” she answered; “but I’m a little rushed to-day with some extra duties.”
She thought of the “cloud-bursts,” which must be made and packed in boxes by the afternoon.
“You are overdoing it, Miss Brown. You are not obeying the doctor’s orders. When I see you there to-night I shall confront you in his presence with the charge of disobedience.”
“There to-night?” repeated Molly.
“Certainly. Have you forgotten about the supper to-night?”
“But I’m not invited.”
“Oh, yes, you are,” answered the Professor, with a knowing smile. “You’ll probably find the note waiting for you. And you must be sure and come, because the McLean’s are real characters. They will interest you, I am sure.”
“Poor Nance,” was Molly’s first thought. And her second thought was: “If her mother is invited out to dine, she can accept.” Her face brightened at this, and without knowing it, she smiled.