"It is late," said Mrs. Derrick. The doctor's words were too slippery for her to get hold of; she waited for him to speak again.
"If it is late, my dear madam, why are you here? I don't want you to see me ever for anything but pleasure. Is it so late I mustn't come in?"
Mrs. Derrick stepped back into the hall—then stopped and turned.
"I was there to watch, Dr. Harrison. What have you got to tell me? One story has come already."
"Has it! Then I can tell you but half a one. I was thinking to make my fortune. Mr. Linden is spending the night at a friend's house, my dear Mrs. Derrick—that is all. He is as well as you are—though perhaps just at this minute not quite so strong as I am. But I am afraid he can boast more than that in another few days."
That Mrs. Derrick felt at once relieved, doubtful, unsatisfied, was clear. But the relief—slight as it was—brought back her hospitality; she led the way into the parlour.
"What has been the matter?" she said. "What is the matter?"
"I don't know," said the doctor. "He fell in with somebody carrying a gun—which was very likely to happen, seeing I have met a great many myself; but I never fell out with any of them yet—perhaps my time will come.—This fellow however, let off his gun in the wrong place and some of the shot hit Mr. Linden in the arm, and before he could get to Mr. Simlins, where I found him, he was a little faint. So I commanded him to stay where he was till morning. That's all. He's perfectly well, I give you my word. I came now on purpose to relieve you from anxiety. He wanted to come down with me, but I wouldn't let him."
"Why didn't you let him?" said Mrs. Derrick.
"Well, I came near letting him," said the doctor,—"for I didn't know at one time that I could help it. It wouldn't have hurt him seriously. But he'll see you with more pleasure to-morrow."