Polly's fanciful musings were broken presently by Mildred's entrance; she accosted the girl cheerfully, but there was no mistaking her pale, harassed looks.
'It is nearly twelve, you ought not to have waited for me, my dear; there was so much to do—and then Richard kept me.'
'Where is Richard?' asked Polly, abruptly.
'He has gone to bed; he is to have Mr. Dugald's room. Dr. Heriot is sitting up with Roy.'
'Yes, I know. Oh, Aunt Milly, he says there is no doubt of his living; the inflammation has subsided, and with care he has every hope of him.'
'Thank God! He will tell his father so; we none of us knew of his danger till it was past, and so we were saved Richard's terrible suspense; he has been telling me about it. I never saw him more cut up about anything—it was a sharper attack than we believed.'
'Could he speak to you, Aunt Milly?'
'Only a word or two, and those hardly audible; the breathing is still so oppressed that we dare not let him try—but he made me a sign to kiss him, and once he took hold of my hand; he likes to see us there.'
'He did not mind Dr. Heriot, then?' and Polly turned to the fire to hide her sudden flush, but Mildred did not notice it.
'He seemed a little agitated, I thought, but Dr. Heriot soon succeeded in calming him; he managed beautifully. I am sure Roy likes having him, though once or twice he looked pained—at least, I fancied so; but you have no idea what Dr. Heriot is in a sickroom,' and Mildred paused in some emotion.