Much to Sally's surprise, Fox came on and he brought Henrietta.
"Doctor Sanderson's engagements cannot be very pressing," she said to him, smiling, as she gave him her hand, "to permit of his coming several hundred miles merely to see two lone women."
Now Doctor Sanderson's engagements, as it chanced, were rather pressing; and it was a fair inference from Sally's words that she was not as glad to see him as he wished and had hoped. But her smile belied her words.
"Miss Ladue forgets, perhaps," he replied, bowing rather formally, "that most of our patients are women, lone or otherwise, and that it is all in the way of business to travel several hundred miles to see them—and to charge for it. Although there are not many that I would take that trouble for," he added, under his breath. "So look out, Sally," he concluded gayly, "and wait until our bill comes in."
That sobered Sally. "Oh, Fox," she said, "we owe you enough already." Which was not what he had bargained for. Sally was looking at him thoughtfully and seemed to be calculating. "Perhaps," she began, "I could manage to—"
"Sally," he interrupted hastily—he seemed even fierce about it—"Sally, I'd like to shake you."
Sally laughed suddenly. "Why don't you?" she asked. "I've no doubt it would do me good."
"That's better," Fox went on, with evident satisfaction. "You seem to be coming to your senses." Sally laughed again. "That's still better. Now, aren't you glad to see me?"
"Why, of course I am."
"Then, why didn't you say so?" he challenged. "Merely to gratify my curiosity, tell me why you didn't."