“Is that Mrs. Waring-Gaunt?—it's Nora speaking. I have the most glorious news for you. Jane is coming!—You don't know Jane? My friend, you know, in Winnipeg. You must have often heard me speak of her.—What?—Brown.—No, Brown, B-r-o-w-n. And she's coming to-morrow.—No, her father is with her.—Yes, Dr. Brown of Winnipeg.—Oh, yes. Isn't it splendid?—Three days only, far too short. And we meet her to-morrow.—I beg your pardon?—Sixteen-forty-five, she says, and she is always right. Oh, a change in the time table is there?—Yes, I will hold on.—Sixteen-forty-five, I might have known.—What do you say?—Oh, could you? Oh, dear Mrs. Waring-Gaunt, how perfectly splendid of you! But are you sure you can?—Oh, you are just lovely.—Yes, she has one trunk, but that can come in the democrat. Oh, that is perfectly lovely! Thank you so much. Good-bye.—What? Yes, oh, yes, certainly I must go.—Will there be room for him? I am sure he will love to go. That will make five, you know, and they have two bags. Oh, lovely; you are awfully good.—We shall need to start about fifteen o'clock. Good-bye. Oh, how is Mr. Romayne?—Oh, I am so sorry, it is too bad. But, Mrs. Waring-Gaunt, you know Dr. Brown is a splendid doctor, the best in Winnipeg, one of the best in Canada. He will tell you exactly what to do.—I beg your pardon?—Yes, she's here. Kathleen, you are wanted. Hurry up, don't keep her waiting. Oh, isn't she a dear?”
“What does she want of me?” said Kathleen, a flush coming to her cheek.
“Come and see,” said Nora, covering the transmitter with her hand, “and don't keep her waiting. What is the matter with you?”
Reluctantly Kathleen placed the receiver to her ear. “Yes, Mrs. Waring-Gaunt, it is Kathleen speaking.—Yes, thank you, quite well.—Oh, I have been quite all right, a little shaken perhaps.—Yes, isn't it splendid? Nora is quite wild, you know. Jane is her dearest friend and she has not seen her since we were children, but they have kept up a most active correspondence. Of course, I saw a great deal of her last year. She is a splendid girl and they were so kind; their house was like a home to me. I am sure it is very kind of you to offer to meet them.—I beg your pardon?—Oh, I am so sorry to hear that. We thought he was doing so well. What brought that on?—Blood-poisoning!—Oh, Mrs. Waring-Gaunt, you don't say so? How terrible! Isn't it good that Dr. Brown is coming? He will know exactly what is wrong.—Oh, I am so sorry to hear that. Sleeplessness is so trying.—Yes—Yes—Oh, Mrs. Waring-Gaunt, I am afraid I couldn't do that.” Kathleen's face had flushed bright crimson. “But I am sure Mother would be so glad to go, and she is a perfectly wonderful nurse. She knows just what to do.—Oh, I am afraid not. Wait, please, a moment.”
“What does she want?” asked Nora.
Kathleen covered the transmitter with her hand. “She wants me to go and sit with Mr. Romayne while she drives you to the station. I cannot, I cannot do that. Where is Mother? Oh, Mother, I cannot go to Mrs. Waring-Gaunt's. I really cannot.”
“What nonsense, Kathleen!” cried Nora impatiently. “Why can't you go, pray? Let me speak to her.” She took the receiver from her sister's hand. “Yes, Mrs. Waring-Gaunt, it is Nora.—I beg your pardon?—Oh, yes, certainly, one of us will be glad to go.—No, no, certainly not. I would not have Mr. Waring-Gaunt leave his work for the world.—I know, I know, awfully slow for him. We had not heard of the change. It is too bad.—Yes, surely one of us will be glad to come. We will fix it up some way. Good-bye.”
Nora hung up the receiver and turned fiercely upon her sister. “Now, what nonsense is this,” she said, “and she being so nice about the car, and that poor man suffering there, and we never even heard that he was worse? He was doing so splendidly, getting about all right. Blood-poisoning is so awful. Why, you remember the Mills boy? He almost lost his arm.”
“Oh, my dear Nora,” said her mother. “There is no need of imagining such terrible things, but I am glad Dr. Brown is to be here. It is quite providential. I am sure he will put poor Mr. Romayne right. Kathleen, dear,” continued the mother, turning to her elder daughter, “I think it would be very nice if you would run over to-morrow while Mrs. Waring-Gaunt drives to the station. I am sure it is very kind of her.”
“I know it is, Mother dear,” said Kathleen. “But don't you think you would be so much better?”