You're all right now; you've lost a little blood: but in a couple of
weeks in this air we'll have that tubercle healed, and you'll be as
right as a trivet."
"In a couple of weeks!" echoed Mainwaring, in faint astonishment. "Why,
I leave here to-morrow."
"You'll do nothing of the kind" said Mrs. Bradley, with smiling
peremptoriness, suddenly slipping out from behind her husband.
"Everything is all perfectly arranged. Jim has sent off messengers to
your friends, so that if you can't come to them, they can come to you.
You see you can't help yourself! If you WILL walk fifteen miles with
such lungs, and then frighten people to death, you must abide by the
consequences."
"You see the old lady has fixed you," said Bradley, smiling; "and she's
the master here. Come, Mainwaring, you can send any other message you
like, and have who and what you want here; but HERE you must stop for a
while."
"But did I frighten you really?" stammered Mainwaring, faintly, to Mrs.
Bradley.
"Frighten us!" said Mrs. Bradley. "Well, look there!"
She pointed to the window, which commanded a view of the veranda. Miss
Macy had dropped into the vacant chair, with her little feet stretched
out before her, her cheeks burning with heat and fire, her eyes partly
closed, her straw hat hanging by a ribbon round her neck, her brown
hair clinging to her ears and forehead in damp tendrils, and an enormous
palm-leaf fan in each hand violently playing upon this charming picture
of exhaustion and abandonment.
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