“Doctor Breen? That girl a doctor?”
“Yes.”
“I thought she was some saucy thing. Well, upon my word!” exclaimed Mrs. Mulbridge. “So that is a female doctor, is it? Was she sick?”
“No,” said her son, with what she knew to be professional finality. “Mother, if you can hurry dinner a little, I shall be glad. I have to drive over to Jocelyn’s, and I should like to start as soon as possible.”
“Who was the young man with her? Her beau, I guess.”
“Was there a young man with her?” asked Dr. Mulbridge.
His mother went out without speaking. She could be unsatisfactory, too.
VI.
No one but Mrs. Breen knew of her daughter’s errand, and when Grace came back she alighted from Mr. Libby’s buggy with an expression of thanks that gave no clew as to the direction or purpose of it. He touched his hat to her with equal succinctness, and drove away, including all the ladies on the piazza in a cursory obeisance.
“We must ask you, Miss Gleason,” said Mrs. Alger. “Your admiration of Dr. Breen clothes you with authority and responsibility.”