"I have changed all my clothes," I told her, "and I don't think I'm
dangerous. Now Daddy insists that we must leave to-morrow, and I'm
just broken-hearted about it. Dr. Grant wrote him that it would be better
for us to leave, but I don't want to go."
"Did the doctor write that?" she exclaimed.
"Yes, because there might be danger in my staying longer. Why can't I
share it with all the others who will have to stay here? I shall never
forgive him!"
I suppose that we were both rather excited, and I know I had to dab my
eyes with my handkerchief. Then Mrs. Barnett forgot all about her own
worries, for she was patting me on the arm, looking at me intently all
the time, just as Daddy has been doing, in a queer way that I can't
understand.
"I daresay it will be best for both of you," she said, in that sweetest
voice of hers.
"Yes, I think Daddy wants to get back," I said, and she stared at me
again, as I rose and bade her good-by.
"Don't say it yet, dear," she told me, "I will certainly come down to see
you off in the morning. It has been so delightful to have had you here
all these weeks, and I shall miss you dreadfully when you are gone. I can
hardly bear to think of it."
So I kissed her and had to tear myself away. Like a pair of silly women
we were on the verge of tears once more, and there was nothing left for
me to do but to run.
It was perhaps some unusual effect of the night air, but I was quite
husky when I spoke to Daddy again.
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