"Is my father dead?"
"Didn't you know?"
"No; but I thought as much; he was such a boozer."
Letitia stared. "Peggy!" she said.
"Oh, I know what you think," the girl replied, wearily, seating herself upon the stairs, and putting her chin upon her hands. She did not ask us to be seated.
"Letitia," I said, firmly, "come; we must go." I put my hand upon the door-knob.
"Doctor," said Peggy Neal, rising again, "you won't mind waiting outside a moment? I have something to say to dear Miss Primrose."
"Certainly," I replied. "Good-bye, Miss—Neal."
She gave her hand to me. "Good-bye, doctor." Then she looked me strangely in the eyes, saying, in an undertone, "Mind, I shall tell her nothing"—and paused significantly, adding in a clearer tone again—"but the truth."
I waited anxiously upon the steps. Five minutes passed—ten—twenty—thirty—and I grew impatient. Then the door opened, and Letitia appeared with Peggy, and radiant though in tears.