Part 17 (1/2)

Mrs. Coombe was evidently not sufficiently interested to pursue the subject. ”Whoever he is,” she said fretfully, ”I hope he is not going to allow Amy to fancy herself an invalid.”

”He is going to cure the fancy.”

”Oh!” dubiously. ”Well, I hope he does! I find I must run over to Detroit for a few days.”

”What?”

”It would be provoking to have her ill while I'm away. No one else can manage Jane properly while you're at school. Where is Jane?”

”I don't know. You are not speaking seriously, are you?”

”I certainly am. At a pinch I suppose I could take Jane with me. She needs new clothes. But I'd rather not bother with her. Her measure will do quite as well. I wish you would call her. I've got some b.u.t.terscotch somewhere. Here it is.” The restless hands fumbled in the hand-bag. ”No, it isn't here, how odd! I promised Jane--”

”Mother, when did you decide to go away?”

”Some time ago. It doesn't matter, does it? I had a letter from Jessica Bremner to-day. She asks me to come at once. It's in this bag somewhere.

I declare I never can find anything! Anyway, she wants me to come.”

”When did you get the letter?”

”On the noon mail, of course.”

Esther turned away. She knew very well that there had been no letter from Detroit on the noon mail. But there seemed no use in saying so.

These little ”inaccuracies” were becoming common enough. At first Esther had exposed and laughed at them as merely humorous mistakes; but that att.i.tude had long been replaced by a cold disgust which did not scruple to call things by their right names. She knew very well that Mary Coombe had developed the habit of lying.

”You see,” went on the prevaricator cheerfully, ”it would be necessary to run down to Toronto soon anyway. I haven't a rag fit to wear and neither has Jane. But Detroit is better. Things are much cheaper across the line. And easy as anything to smuggle. All you need to do is to wear them once and swear they're old.”

”An oath is nothing? But where is the money coming from?”

Mrs. Coombe shrugged her shoulders. ”One can't get along without clothes! And even if I could, there is another reason for the trip. My medicine is almost finished. I can't risk being without that.”

It was the opportunity for which Esther had waited. She spoke eagerly.

”Why not try getting it filled here? I'm sure they are as careful as possible at Taylor's.”

The hand-bag shut with a particularly emphatic click. Mrs. Coombe rose.

”We have discussed that before,” she said coldly. ”It is a very particular prescription and hard to fill. As it means so much to me in my wretched health to have it exactly right, I am surprised at you, Esther!”

Esther put the surprise aside.

”You could get it by mail, couldn't you?”

”I shall not try to get it by mail.”

”But Taylor's are absolutely reliable. Why not give them a chance? If it is not satisfactory I shall never say another word. It seems so senseless going to Detroit for a few drugs which may be had around the corner. Perhaps it is not as difficult to fill as you think. Let me show the prescription to Dr. Callandar--” She stopped suddenly for Mrs.

Coombe had grown white, a pasty white, and she broke in upon the girl's suggestion with a little inarticulate cry of rage, so uncalled for, so utterly unexpected, that Esther was frightened. For a moment the film seemed brushed from the hazel eyes--the blinds were raised and angry fear peeped out.

”You wouldn't dare!” The words were a mere breath. Then meeting the girl's look of blank amazement she caught herself from the brink of hysteria and added more calmly, ”What an impossible suggestion! I need no second opinion upon the remedy which your father prescribed for me and I shall take none. As for the journey, I shall ask your advice when I wish it. At present I am capable of managing my own affairs. I shall come and go as I like.”