No, she wouldn't lie down. No, she wouldn't
lower her voice. What did hotel people matter to her? What did
anything matter? She had come to the end. Accustomed to ingratitude
as she was, hardened to injustice and desertion, there were still
limits--
There were. The doctor had reached his. Hastily he explained that
she had mistaken his meaning. And, to prove it, engaged passage at
once, for the next upcoast trip, on the same little steamer which a
few days earlier had carried Mr. and Mrs. Benis H. Spence.
It was a heavenly day. The mountains lifted them-selves out of veils
of tinted mist, the islands lay like jewels--but Aunt Caroline,
impervious to mere scenery, turned her thought severely inward.
"I suppose," she said to her now subdued escort, "that we shall have
to pay the secretary a month's salary. Benis will scarcely wish to
take him back east with us."
The doctor attempted to answer but seemed to have some trouble with
his throat.
"It's the damp air," said Aunt Caroline. "Have a troche. If Benis
really needs a secretary I think I can arrange to get one for him.
Do you remember Mary Davis? Her mother was an Ashton--a very good
family. But unfortunate. The girls have had to look out for
themselves rather. Mary took a course. She could be a secretary, I'm
sure. Benis could always correct things afterward. And she is not
too young. Just about the right age, I should think. They used to
know each other.
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