“You are Moira?” cried Mandy.
“Yes,” said the girl in an eager, tremulous voice. “And my brother? Is he well?”
“Well? Of course he is—perfectly fine. He is sleeping now. We will not wake him. He has had none too good a night.”
“No, no,” cried Moira, “don't wake him. Oh, I am so glad. You see, I was afraid.”
“Afraid? Why were you afraid?” inquired Mandy, looking indignantly at the doctor, who stood back, a picture of self condemnation.
“Yes, yes, Mrs. Cameron, blame me. I deserve it all. I bungled the whole thing this morning and frightened Miss Cameron nearly into a fit, for no other reason than that I am all ass. Now I shall retire. Pray deal gently with me. Good-by!” he added abruptly, lifted his hat and was gone.
“What's the matter with him?” said Mandy, looking at her sister-in-law.
“I do not know, I am sure,” replied Moira indifferently. “Is there anything the matter?”
“He is not like himself a bit. But come, my dear, take off your things. As the doctor says, a sleep for a couple of hours will do you good. After that you will see Allan. You are looking very weary, dear, and no wonder, no wonder,” said Mandy, “with all that journey and—and all you have gone through.” She gathered the girl into her strong arms. “My, I could just pick you up like a babe!” She held her close and kissed her.
The caressing touch was too much for the girl. With a rush the tears came.