Mrs. Holland tossed her letters down to him from the piazza above, and
Mr. Arnett went away.
Florence Vane came over from the cottage across the way—came with slow, feeble steps, and sat down in the door beside her friend. Presently Ester came out to them:
"Sadie, can't you go to the office for me? I forgot to send this letter with the rest."
"Yes," said Sadie. "That is if you think you can go that little bit,
Florence."
"I shall think for her," Dr. Van Anden said, coming down the stairs. "Florence out here to-night, with the dew falling, and not even any thing to protect your head. I am surprised!"
"Oh, Doctor, do let me enjoy this soft air for a few minutes."
"Positively, no. Either come in the house, or go home directly. You are very imprudent. Miss Ester, I'll mail your letters for you."
"What does Dr. Van Anden want to act like a simpleton about Florence Vane for?" Ester asked this question late in the evening, when the sisters were alone in their room.
Sadie paused in her merry chatter. "Why, Ester, what do you mean? About her being out to-night? Why, you know, she ought to be very careful; and I'm afraid she isn't. The doctor told her father this morning he was afraid she would not live through the season, unless she was more careful."
"Fudge!" said Ester. "He thinks he is a wise man; he wants to make her out very sick, so that he may have the honor of helping her. I don't see as she looks any worse than she did a year ago."