"Now, that's jest the thing. Bring him over some night and we'll git 'em all together and have a real talk about it all. Tell him what I'm tryin' to do. No--I'll send Dr. Eaton to talk with him. I like your husband, Mis' Carrington. A man that can hold a sick baby so tender in a pan of hot water has got heart; and what we want in this is heart as well as brains and money." Mrs. Carrington rose to go. "I'm glad I came to you this morning, and I'm glad you like my husband, because, Miss Doane--let me whisper it to you--I believe I do too!" CHAPTER XV Drusilla was called to the 'phone and a nervous, trembly-voiced Daphne spoke to her. "May I come over, Miss Doane? I--I--want to get away from the house and talk to some one--May I come over?" Drusilla answered quickly: "Come right along, and come to spend the day. I got to go to the home, and I'll take you with me." Soon Daphne came up the driveway and stopped to look at two big baskets being put into the motor car, and before she could ring the bell Drusilla dressed for driving came to the door. "Git right in, Daphne," Drusilla said, putting on her gloves. "Push that basket more to the front--there, that's right. Have you got that bundle, Joseph? Don't lose it out. Now go just as fast as you can, but don't git arrested." As she sat down by the side of Daphne she added: "I'm always in mortal fear of being arrested, 'cause I like to go fast. I don't care about the arrested part, but it'd git my name in the papers again and then your father'd make me one of his 'severity' visits, and I don't seem never to git used to them. When James tells me your father is waitin' for me it makes me feel jest like I used to when I done somethin' wrong and was called into the parlor, where I always got my scoldings, 'cause mother knew the kitchen wouldn't awe me. But"--and she chuckled--"I'm gittin' kind of used even to him, and I'm gittin' so independent there ain't no livin' with me. I even show it the way I walk. When I was ordered around by everybody, I used to sort of tiptoe around so's not to call attention to myself. Now I come down so hard on my heels I have to wear rubber ones so's not to jar my spine. But"--she looked keenly at the pale face beside her and the eyes that showed signs of recent tears--"what's the matter, dear? Have you been cryin'?" "Oh, I'm in _such_ trouble, Miss Doane," Daphne said with a choke in her voice. Drusilla patted her hand. "It can't be great trouble, Daphne." "Yes, it is, Miss Doane. No one has such trouble as I have, I'm sure." "Hush, dear, hush! Wait a minute. Let me show you a letter I got last night from Barbara, and then you'll know what real trouble means." She drew from her bag a folded piece of paper and handed it to Daphne. "Read that," she said; and Daphne read a badly spelled, badly written scrawl, in the writing of an old woman unused to holding a pen: DEAR DRUSILLA: