Drusilla watching them go, wondered if she would ever see them again,
with their pert caps, the bare knees of them--the strong swing of their
bodies.
She stretched her arms above her head. "Oh, oh, I'm tired--"
She went in and poured another cup of tea. She left the door open.
Indeed it always stood open that the room might shine its welcome.
Snatching forty winks, she waked to find a woman standing over her--a
tall woman in a blue cloak and bonnet, who held in her hand a dripping
umbrella.
She felt that she still dreamed. "It can't be Hilda Merritt?"
"Yes, it is." Hilda set the umbrella in the wood box. "I knew you
were here."
"Who told you?"
"Dr. McKenzie."
"Oh, you are with him, then?"
"He won't have me. That's why I came to you."
"To me?"
"Yes. I want you to tell him not to--turn me away."
Drusilla showed her bewilderment. "But, surely nothing that I could
say would have more weight with him than your own arguments."
"You are his kind. He'd listen. Things that you say count with him."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Well, I've offended him. And he won't forgive me.
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