“Oh!” cried the girls in unison.
“Do you think, doctor,” asked Lucy, with trembling lips, “he will—” but she could not speak the word.
“Not a bit of it,” and the doctor snapped his fingers.
“Oh, I am so thankful!”
“Now be off to bed, every one of you!” said the doctor, with a certain jolly imperiousness. “Scamper!” And he shook his tawny mane. “No doubt there are plenty of fellows who would gladly die for you, but I intend to pull this one through. Good-night. Go and dream of the hero. Of course you are all in love with him. Good-night.” And with a courtly bow he took his leave.
CHAPTER XII.
A few days after this, when Mrs. Carter entered the Don’s room, before going down to breakfast, to see how he was getting on, she found him entirely free from fever and his head clear once more. It was then that, for the first time, she made him understand that the house in which he was lying was the one in front of which he had so often met little Laura.
“You must know we have often played the spy upon you from our window while you were talking to her.”
“Indeed!” said he, coloring. “You must have thought—”
“We thought none the worse of you, I can assure you.”