"Well, Martin,
Doctor will have to wait on himself to-morrow; Leonard will be out of
town."
That evening, alone with her brother, she said, "But I thought you were
to be out of town to-morrow."
"No," he replied, "I don't think I'd better."
Another day passed, another came, and Mrs. Morris was still in danger.
Isabel wrote Arthur that she would be with him the moment the peril was
over, if he needed her; but if he did not, she would stay on for her
mother's fuller recovery. Her letter had barely gone when she received a
pencilled line brought in to the mountain hotel by a chance messenger
and sent on to her, saying he would be out on his tramp five days
instead of three. On the fifth day she telegraphed that her mother was
getting well so fast that she would come, now, at his word.
The next morning she betrayed to Ruth a glad sense of relief as she
showed her a dispatch from Arthur, which read: "Going on another trip
to-morrow. Stay till I write."
Ruth repeated it to her father and brother at their noonday meal.
Leonard made no comment, but the General asked pleasantly--
"Is she certain he won't come in on this evening's express?" He was
discerning more than any one wanted him to.
However, at dusk came the train, took water at the tank, stopped at the
station, and passed on, and Arthur did not appear.
"Well, I'll go to bed," blithely spoke the General.
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