Kathleen covered the transmitter with her hand. “She wants me to go and sit with Mr. Romayne while she drives you to the station. I cannot, I cannot do that. Where is Mother? Oh, Mother, I cannot go to Mrs. Waring-Gaunt's. I really cannot.” “What nonsense, Kathleen!” cried Nora impatiently. “Why can't you go, pray? Let me speak to her.” She took the receiver from her sister's hand. “Yes, Mrs. Waring-Gaunt, it is Nora.--I beg your pardon?--Oh, yes, certainly, one of us will be glad to go.--No, no, certainly not. I would not have Mr. Waring-Gaunt leave his work for the world.--I know, I know, awfully slow for him. We had not heard of the change. It is too bad.--Yes, surely one of us will be glad to come. We will fix it up some way. Good-bye.” Nora hung up the receiver and turned fiercely upon her sister. “Now, what nonsense is this,” she said, “and she being so nice about the car, and that poor man suffering there, and we never even heard that he was worse? He was doing so splendidly, getting about all right. Blood-poisoning is so awful. Why, you remember the Mills boy? He almost lost his arm.” “Oh, my dear Nora,” said her mother. “There is no need of imagining such terrible things, but I am glad Dr. Brown is to be here. It is quite providential. I am sure he will put poor Mr. Romayne right. Kathleen, dear,” continued the mother, turning to her elder daughter, “I think it would be very nice if you would run over to-morrow while Mrs. Waring-Gaunt drives to the station. I am sure it is very kind of her.” “I know it is, Mother dear,” said Kathleen. “But don't you think you would be so much better?” “Oh, rubbish!” cried Nora. “If it were not Jane that is coming, I would go myself; I would only be too glad to go. He is perfectly splendid, so patient, and so jolly too, and Kathleen, you ought to go.”