"Nonsense! It's only unimportant things I won't be bothered with, like the absurd questions Judith thinks up to ask me and Dodo's gossip about the fellows at Exmoor. But I am well aware that you never waste time. I suspect you of being one of the busiest little ladies in Wellington."
Molly smiled. Somehow, she liked to be called a "little lady" by this distinguished professor.
"But your letter that must go by the six mail?"
"That can wait until morning," he said.
He had just said it was to go at six, but, of course, he had a right to change his mind.
"Sit down and tell me what's the trouble. Have you had bad news from home?"
"No, it's about Nance," she began, and told him the whole story. "You see," she finished, "Nance has had so few friends, and she is very fond of Andy. Because she thinks the accident was her fault, she is just grieving herself into an awful state."
The Professor sat with his chin resting on his hand.
"Poor little girl!" he said. "And the Doctor and Mrs. McLean are in almost as bad a state themselves. You know it's just a chance that Andy will pull through. He has developed pneumonia."
"Oh, dear, with all those broken bones and that terrible gash! Isn't it dreadful?"