"I beg your pardon," she said, coming forward and flushing slightly under
his amused smile. "It was so quiet here that I forgot where I was."
He stood aside as she passed into the room, bringing with her an exquisite
fragrance of roses.
"Will you be seated?" he asked, as he turned from closing the door.
"No; it is not worth while."
"What is the trouble, --you or your mother?"
There had been nothing disconcerting in the Irish-woman's stare; but she
felt suddenly hot and uncomfortable under the doctor's broad gaze.
"Neither of us," she answered; "I broke the tonic bottle this morning, and
as the number was destroyed, I should like to have you give me another
prescription."
"Directly. Take this chair for a moment."
She seated herself perforce, and he took the chair beside the desk.
"How is she since yesterday?" he asked, as he wrote, without looking up.
"Quite as comfortable."
He handed her the prescription presently, and she arose at once. He
stepped forward to open the outer door for her.
"I hope you no longer feel alarmed over her health," he remarked, with a
hand on the knob.
"No; you have made us feel there was no cause for it. But for your method
I am afraid there might have been."
"Thank you; but do not think anything of the kind.
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