Poor Maggie paid for her good nature. On Sunday morning she was so
decidedly worse that William King, to the disgust of his Martha, was
summoned from his breakfast-table.
"Women who can't look after a simple sore throat without bothering
their doctors are pretty inefficient creatures," she said coldly.
William thought of women who were so efficient that they did not
hesitate to advise their doctors; but he only agreed with proper
seriousness to Martha's declaration that it was too bad, for he would
be late for church--"unless you hurry, William!" she called after him.
Perhaps he hurried when he was with Maggie, but certainly he displayed
no haste when giving his directions to Mrs. Richie, nor even later
when just as he was about to drive off, Mr. Pryor hailed him from the
garden.
"How's your patient, doctor?"
"Pretty sick. She didn't obey your sister's orders and keep in bed
yesterday. So, of course, she's worse to-day."
Mr. Pryor leaned a comfortable elbow on the green gate. "That's a nice
prospect! What am I going to have to eat?" he said, good-humoredly.
Yet behind the good humor there was annoyance. It came into William
King's mind that this fellow would not spare his sister his
irritation, and with a sudden impulse of concern for her, he said,
"Well now, look here, why don't you and Mrs. Richie come in this
evening and take tea with us? I don't know what you'll get, but come
and take pot-luck."
"Thank you," Lloyd Pryor said, "but--"
"Oh, come now," interrupted the doctor, gathering up his reins; "you
good people are not neighborly enough. We'll expect you both at six."
"You are very kind, but I think--" But William would not listen. He
was in great spirits. "It will be pot-luck, and my wife will be
delighted--" then, his voice dragged--"I hope you'll come," he said
uncertainly.
Mr. Pryor began to protest, but ended with a laugh. "Well, we'll come!
Thank you very much."
"That's good," the doctor said a little less cordially, indeed, as he
drove away he looked distinctly less cordial, and once he sighed....
Now, how should he put it? "Oh, Martha, by the way, Mr. Pryor and his
sister will drop in to tea to-night. I suggested it, and--" No, that
would not do.... "Martha, it occurred to me it would be neighborly--"
No. "Confound it," William King muttered to himself, "what did I do it
for, anyhow? 'Martha, my dear, I know you like to do a kindness, so I
asked Mrs. Richie and her brother'"--that was better. "But I hate a
circumbendibus!" William said, irritably, to himself. Then he drew a
long breath, and set his lips as a man may who is about to face the
domestic cannon's mouth.