"Well'm; I suppose there's
a good deal of dyin' this time of year?"
"Have you a despatch for me?" Mrs. Richie said curtly.
"No'm;" said Mrs. Minns.
"Did Dr. King send a telegram for me this morning?" she asked in a
sudden panic of alarm.
"Yes'm," the postmistress said, "he sent it."
Mrs. Richie turned away, and began to walk about the office; up and
down, up and down. Once she stopped and read the names on the
pigeonholes of the letter-rack; once the telegraph instrument clicked,
and she held her breath: "Is that mine?"
"It ain't," Mrs. Minns said laconically.
Helena went to the open doorway, and gazed blankly out into Main
Street. She might as well go home; he wasn't going to telegraph. She
told herself that he was out of town, and had not received her
despatch. But her explanation was not convincing; if he was away, the
despatch would have been forwarded to him. It must be that as he was
coming on Saturday, he had not thought it worth while to telegraph.
She wandered aimlessly out into the hot street--there was no use
waiting any longer; and as for meeting David, he had gone home long
ago.
As she went up the street, Dr. Lavendar stopped her. He had been told
that the news of the night before did not mean affliction, but Dr.
Lavendar knew that there are worse things than affliction, so he stood
ready to offer comfort if it was needed. But apparently it was not
wanted, and after a minute's pause, he began to speak of his own
affairs: "I've been wondering if you would trust David to me for two
or three days in October.
Pages:
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230