Annie Kilburn - Page 90/183

"I--I beg your pardon," she faltered, with dawning comfort in his severity.

"I didn't mean--I didn't intend to say--"

"I know it," said Dr. Morrell, allowing himself to smile. "Just remember

that you blundered into doing the only thing left to be done for Mrs.

Savor's child; and--don't try it again. That's all."

He smiled once more, and at some permissive light in her face, he began

even to laugh.

"You--you're horrible!"

"Oh no, I'm not," he gasped. "All the tears in the world wouldn't help; and

my laughing hurts nobody. I'm sorry for you, and I'm sorry for the mother;

but I've told you the truth--I have indeed; and you _must_ believe

me."

The child's father came to see her the next night. "Rebecca she seemed to

think that you felt kind of bad, may be, because Maria wouldn't speak to

you when she first got off the cars yesterday, and I don't say she done

exactly right, myself. The way I look at it, and the way I tell Maria

_she'd_ ought to, is like this: You done what you done for the best,

and we wa'n't _obliged_ to take your advice anyway. But of course

Maria she'd kind of set her heart on savin' it, and she can't seem to get

over it right away." He talked on much longer to the same effect, tilted

back in his chair, and looking down, while he covered and uncovered one of

his knees with his straw hat. He had the usual rustic difficulty in getting

away, but Annie was glad to keep him, in her gratitude for his kindness.

Besides, she could not let him go without satisfying a suspicion she had.

"And Dr. Morrell--have you seen him for Mrs. Savor--have you--" She

stopped, for shame of her hypocrisy.

"No, 'm. We hain't seen him _sence_. I guess she'll get along."

It needed this stroke to complete her humiliation before the single-hearted

fellow.

"I--I suppose," she stammered out, "that you--your wife, wouldn't like me

to come to the--I can understand that; but oh! if there is anything I can

do for you--flowers--or my carriage--or helping anyway--"

Mr. Savor stood up. "I'm much obliged to _you_, Miss Kilburn; but we

thought we hadn't better wait, well not a great while, and--the funeral was

this afternoon. Well, I wish you good evening."

She met the mother, a few days after, in the street; with an impulse to

cross over to the other side she advanced straight upon her.