"Mayn't I ask some one to spend the day, mother?" she called, but Mrs. Graham was almost at the gate, nearly running to be in time for her train, and did not hear her.
Mrs. Graham came home looking very white and tired. "Did Miss Addiscombe call?" were the first words she said.
Louisa, who was bringing in the tea, looked meaningly at Dorothy, and went out without speaking.
"Oh, mother!" said Dorothy, "I am so sorry, I had been in all day, and Helen Jones just asked me to come to the post with her, and when I came back there was a motor at the door, and——"
"She came!" exclaimed Mrs. Graham. "And you did not give her my message! Oh, Dorothy!"
Her tone was almost like a cry of pain. Dorothy was startled. "She wouldn't wait, mother, and—and of course it was strange she came to-day when she hasn't called for ages and ages! I didn't think she would, or I wouldn't have gone," she explained.
Mrs. Graham did not argue the point. She lay down on the sofa and closed her eyes. Dorothy longed to ask her about the American cousins, but did not dare. Presently she poured out a cup of tea and brought it to her mother.
"If you take some tea you will feel better, mother," she said softly.
"If I had asked Dick to do something for me he would have done it, Dorothy," said Mrs. Graham bitterly, and without seeming to notice the tea she got up and gathered her things together. "I have a headache," she said. "I am not coming down again. Father will not be home to-night, so you can tell Louisa there will be no need to lay the cloth for dinner. I don't wish any one to come near me." And she went out of the room.