"Good-morning, Miss Redding," was his reply.
His face was pale. Great beads of perspiration were rolling down his cheeks. He began to mop them with a damp handkerchief.
At that moment Dr. Atherton came on the scene. "Good-morning, young ladies," he said.
Such a slovenly-looking doctor! And we used to think him such a sprucely-got-up man. There was no collar round his neck, and his hair hung in damp strings on his forehead. And he had no coat on, not a waistcoat either, nor did he look a bit abashed.
"Sleep well?" he said.
Mr. Wheeler seized the opportunity to slink away.
"You haven't slept!" we cried.
He didn't reply. His haggard face, the red rims round his tired eyes were answer enough.
"You've been up all night?" said Sylvia calmly.
I burst into a whimpering wail.