"Yes," said Miss Ruth, "he is very ill, but the fact of his couch being in the library does not alter it. If anything sad should be going to happen,--it would be different, then." "Of course," assented Miss Deborah. "You see," Miss Ruth explained, "if we saw him, and then he got well, it would be very awkward." "True," said Miss Deborah. "And certainly single women cannot be too delicate in such matters. We will send the whips by Giff. Poor, poor William Denner! Let me see,--were you to be his partner on Saturday? Oh, no, I recollect: it was I,--it was my turn." "I think not," Miss Ruth replied gently; "you played last week. I should have played with him this time." "Not at all," said Miss Deborah firmly, "he was mine." CHAPTER XX. The suspense was very hard for Lois Howe to bear. When Mrs. Dale drove her from the sick-room for air and exercise, she wandered restlessly about the rectory, or went to Mr. Denner's door to beg a word of encouragement from Mary, or take a momentary comfort from the messages he sent her that he was better, and he begged she would not allow herself the slightest discomfort; it was really of no consequence,--no consequence at all. Gifford was almost always with the little gentleman, and scarcely left him, even to walk through the garden to the grassy street with Lois. On Sunday, however, late in the afternoon, he went home with her; for Mr. Dale, with whom she had come, was going to sit awhile with Mr. Denner, and Gifford felt he could be spared. The hour was full of that peculiar Sunday afternoon quiet which seems to subdue even the crickets and the birds. There was a breath of fragrance from some fresh-cut grass, still wet from a noon thunder shower, which had left the air crystal-clear and fresh. Their shadows stretched far ahead along the road, where the dust was still damp, though the setting sun poured a flood of yellow light behind them. Lois walked as though very tired; she scarcely noticed her companion, and did not speak except to answer his questions. "Isn't there any change in Mrs. Forsythe?" he asked, with anxious sympathy. Lois shook her head. "No," she said. "Hasn't the rector gotten word to her son yet?" "No," Lois said again. "We telegraphed twice, but he seems to be out of town, and nobody knows his address." Gifford made no comment. "I wish he would come!" the girl cried passionately. "It would be a relief to have him reproach me." "I hope there will be no need of reproaches. I do hope his mother will get well." "Oh, no, no," Lois said, "she won't! I know it." "Try to be more hopeful," he urged. "The doctor said there was absolutely no injury except the shock. I believe she will get well, Lois." "Oh, you don't know her," Lois answered. "You don't know how frail she is. And then there's Mr. Denner! It is the responsibility of it that kills me, Giff! I cannot get away from it for one single minute."