It
isn't as if we were poor and couldn't hire nurses and maids. I should
die if it were like that, and I were such a burden."
"Mother,
dearest!" broke in Margaret feverishly, with an
imploring glance toward her sister and the doctor.
"Oh, by the way," interposed the doctor airily, "it has occurred to me
that the very object of my visit to-day is right along the lines of what
you ask. I want Miss Margaret to go driving with me. I have a call to
make out Washington Heights way."
"Oh, but--" began Margaret, and paused at a gesture from her mother.
"There aren't any 'buts' about it," declared Mrs. Whitmore. "Meg shall
go."
"Of course she'll go!" echoed Katherine. And with three against her,
Margaret's protests were in vain.
* * * * *
Mrs. Whitmore was nervous that night. She could not sleep.
It seemed to her that if she could get up and walk, back and forth, back
and forth, she could rest afterward. She had not stepped alone yet, to
be sure, since the accident, but, after all, the girls did little more
than guide her feet, and she was sure that she could walk alone if she
tried.
The more she thought of it the more she longed to test her strength.
Just a few steps back and forth, back and forth--then sleep.
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