Constance ceased speaking, for there came the usual interruption to our evening tete-a-tete—the ringing of my office bell.
“You are wanted up at the Allen House, Doctor, said my boy, coming in from the office a few moments afterwards.
“Who is sick?” I asked.
“The old lady.”
“Any thing serious?”
“I don't know, sir. But I should think there was from the way old Aunty looked. She says, come up as quickly as you can.”
“Is she in the office?”
“No, sir. She just said that, and then went out in a hurry.”
“The plot thickens,” said I, looking at Constance.
“Poor old lady!” There was a shade of pity in her tones.