"Yes, I'm coming, dear," he tried to answer cheerily. Then he wrung Martine's hand and whispered, "Send for Dr. Barnes. God knows you should have relief. Tell Jackson also to have a carriage go for Mr. Nichol at once. After the doctor comes you may leave all in our hands. Good-by." Martine heard the rustle of a lady's dress and retired precipitately. CHAPTER X "YOU CANNOT UNDERSTAND" With an affectation of briskness he was far from feeling, Mr. Kemble came down the stairs and joined his daughter in the hall. He had taken pains to draw his hat well over his eyes, anticipating and dreading her keen scrutiny, but, strange to say, his troubled demeanor passed unnoticed. In the interval of waiting Helen's thoughts had taken a new turn. "Well, papa," she began, as they passed into the street, "I am curious to know about the sick man. You stayed an age, but all the same I'm glad I came with you. Forebodings, presentiments, and all that kind of thing seemed absurd the moment I saw Jackson's keen, mousing little visage. His very voice is like a ray of garish light entering a dusky, haunted room. Things suggesting ghosts and hobgoblins become ridiculously prosaic, and you are ashamed of yourself and your fears." "Yes, yes," replied Mr. Kemble, yielding to irritation in his deep perplexity, "the more matter-of-fact we are the better we're off. I suppose the best thing to do is just to face what happens and try to be brave." "Well, papa, what's happened to annoy you to-night? Is this sick man going to make you trouble?" "Like enough. I hope not. At any rate, he has claims which I must meet." "Don't you think you can meet them?" was her next anxious query, her mind reverting to some financial obligation. "We'll see. You and mother'll have to help me out, I guess. I'll tell you both when we get home;" and his sigh was so deep as to be almost a groan. "Papa," said Helen, earnestly pressing his arm, "don't worry. Mamma and I will stand by you; so will Hobart. He is the last one in the world to desert one in any kind of trouble." "I know that, no one better; but I fear he'll be in deeper trouble than any of us. The exasperating thing is that there should be any trouble at all. If it had only happened before--well, well, I can't talk here in the street. As you say, you must stand by me, and I'll do the best I can by you and all concerned." "Oh, papa, there was good cause for my foreboding." "Well, yes, and no. I don't know. I'm at my wits' end. If you'll be brave and sensible, you can probably do more than any of us." "Papa, papa, something IS the matter with Hobart," and she drew him hastily into the house, which they had now reached. Mrs. Kemble met them at the door. Alarmed at her husband's troubled face, she exclaimed anxiously, "Who is this man? What did he want?" "Come now, mother, give me a chance to get my breath. We'll close the doors, sit down, and talk it all over."