“Very unwell, guardian. I fear it will be some time before she regains her health and strength.”
“What do you call some time, now?” asked my guardian thoughtfully.
“Some weeks, I am afraid.”
“Ah!” He began to walk about the room with his hands in his pockets, showing that he had been thinking as much. “Now, what do you say about her doctor? Is he a good doctor, my love?”
I felt obliged to confess that I knew nothing to the contrary but that Prince and I had agreed only that evening that we would like his opinion to be confirmed by someone.
“Well, you know,” returned my guardian quickly, “there’s Woodcourt.”
I had not meant that, and was rather taken by surprise. For a moment all that I had had in my mind in connection with Mr. Woodcourt seemed to come back and confuse me.
“You don’t object to him, little woman?”
“Object to him, guardian? Oh no!”
“And you don’t think the patient would object to him?”
So far from that, I had no doubt of her being prepared to have a great reliance on him and to like him very much. I said that he was no stranger to her personally, for she had seen him often in his kind attendance on Miss Flite.
“Very good,” said my guardian. “He has been here today, my dear, and I will see him about it tomorrow.”
I felt in this short conversation—though I did not know how, for she was quiet, and we interchanged no look—that my dear girl well remembered