"I think I'll go now,"I said at length."I--I don't understand exactly how I got here,"I went on,looking from the Bishop to the Dowager and back again,"or how I happened to miss my father.I'm ever--so much obliged to you,and if you will give me my hat,I'll take the next train back to college.""You'll do nothing of the sort,"said the Dowager,promptly.
"My dear,you're a sweet girl that's been studying too hard.You must go to my room and rest--""And stay for dinner.Don't you care.Sometimes I don't know how I get here myself."Edward winked jovially.
Well,I did.While the Dowager's back was turned,I gave him the littlest one,in return for his.It made him drunker than ever.
"I think,"said the Bishop,grimly,with a significant glance at the Dowager,as he turned just then and saw the old cock ogling me,"the young lady is wiser than we.I'll take her to the station--"The station!Ugh!Not Nance Olden,with the red coat still on.
"Impossible,my dear Bishop,"interrupted the Dowager."She can't be permitted to go back on the train alone.""Why,Miss--Miss Murieson,I'll see you back all the way to the college door.Not at all,not at all.Charmed.First,we'll have dinner--or,first I'll telephone out there and tell 'em you're with us,so that if there's any rule or anything of that sort--"The telephone!This wretched Edward with half his wits gave me more trouble than the Bishop and the Dowager put together.She jumped at the idea,and left the room,only to come back again to whisper to me:
"What name,my dear?"
"What name?what name?"I repeated blankly.What name,indeed.
I wonder how "Nance Olden"would have done.
"Don't hurry,dear,don't perplex yourself,"she whispered anxiously,noting my bewilderment."There's plenty of time,and it makes no difference--not a particle,really."I put my hand to my head.
"I can't think--I can't think.There's one girl has nervous prostration,and her name's got mixed with mine,and I can't--""Hush,hush!Never mind.You shall come and lie down in my room.You'll stay with us to-night,anyway,and we'll have a doctor in,Bishop.""That's right,"assented the Bishop."I'll go get him myself.""You--you're not going!"I cried in dismay.It was real.
I hated to see him go.
"Nonsense--'phone."It was Edward who went himself to telephone for the doctor,and I saw my time getting short.
But the Bishop had to go,anyway.He looked out at his horses shivering in front of the house,and the sight hurried him.
"My child,"he said,taking my hand,"just let Mrs.Ramsay take care of you to-night.Don't bother about anything,but just rest.I'll see you in the morning,"he went on,noticing that Ikind of clung to him.Well,I did."Can't you remember what Isaid to you in the carriage--that I wished you were my daughter.
I wish you were,indeed I do,and that I could take you home with me and keep you,child.""Then--to-night--if--when you pray--will you pray for me as if I was--your own daughter?"Tom Dorgan,you think no prayers but a priest's are any good,you bigoted,snickering Catholic!I tell you if some day I cut loose from you and start in over again,it'll be the Bishop's prayers that'll do it.
The Dowager and I passed Edward in the ball.He gave me a look behind her back,and I gave him one to match it.Just practice,you know,Tom.A girl can never know when she'll want to be expert in these things.
