"They can be unmade easily enough."
"No, no. It isn't worth while. Let Sally have her party. I'll come to it, myself. You tell her so, will you, Mr. Sanderson?"
So Sally had her party. The knowledge that she had it was some comfort to Mrs. Ladue, who, in her comfortable, half-asleep condition, was dimly conscious—and glad—that her illness had made no difference in the plans for Sally. And Doctor Galen had come; ostensibly to the party. To be sure, he spent more than half the time with Mrs. Ladue, mounting the stairs silently, once in a while. Then, if she was sleeping, he would stand and watch her, observing every movement, voluntary and involuntary. They all meant something to him; most of them told him something. If she was not sleeping, she would open her eyes and smile vaguely, being still in that comfortable, dozing state when nothing seems to matter much. Then the doctor would enjoin silence by raising his hand, and she would smile again and close her eyes while he took a turn about the room, quietly, but not so quietly as to make his patient nervous.
It was fortunate that the day was pleasant and warm, for that made it possible to spread the table at some distance from the house, where the noise would not disturb Mrs. Ladue. Doctor Galen leaned against a tree and looked on at the happy crew. When they seemed to be about through their eating and talking, he beckoned to Sally, who came to him at once.
"I must go now, Sally," he said. "Your guests will be going pretty soon, I suppose. You won't let them make too much noise near the house?"
"Why," Sally asked, startled, "is mother—"
"Your mother is doing just what I want her to do," the doctor replied, interrupting her. "She is doing very well, indeed. It's only a precaution, my dear little girl. I don't want you to worry, Sally. I'll look out for your mother. You needn't do anything but follow the directions I gave you. You can do that easily. And don't worry, Sally, whatever happens."
The quick tears had rushed to Sally's eyes as Doctor Galen spoke. "Oh, yes, indeed, I can," she said, "and I won't." This speech was not as clear as it might have been, and Sally realized it. "Oh, I mean—"
"I know what you mean," the doctor returned, patting her shoulder. "You're a good girl, Sally. Now, I must go."
When the doctor went out at the gate, a few minutes later, he was smiling. I don't know what he was smiling at, but it may have been at the recollection of a kiss which Sally had just bestowed upon him. It had taken him somewhat by surprise. It had been almost as much of a surprise to Sally.