"I was afraid I couldn't persuade you," he said. "Let us pa.s.s to the next point."

I was still gasping, like a fish.

"You find your throat better with your mouth open?" he asked, with interest.

I closed it with a snap. And kept it closed.

"As my wife," he remarked, "you would have ample opportunities for delicate and refined torture. However.... You have called me, perhaps rightly, a 'brute'. Am I to infer that you still continue to regard me in that unflattering light?"

I nodded. Speech, by now, was wholly beyond me.

"And I," he went on, "have intimated what I, as an honest man, think of you. It is quite plain that I do not like you any better than you like me. You have, I think, the makings of a rather nice girl. But I have never cared for ... kittens. Now that we are agreed to disagree, Miss Carroll, will you shake hands with me, and for the sake of our enforced relationship, pledge yourself neither to stab me in the back or bite me, when I am not looking? When you are quite well again, I am at your mercy. But until then, I must entreat you not to hamper your recovery, and blast my medical reputation, by consistently opposing me at every turn. Are you willing to play friends with me until such time when I can set you on your feet?"

He held out his hand and smiled. The whole thing was ridiculous, and he had been unnecessarily insulting. And yet ... it was a nice smile, Diary. I have even seen my Peterkins smile just like that, hopefully, ingratiatingly. And after all, I do owe him so much.

Silently I laid my hand in his.

"Good!" said he, gripping it. "And tomorrow you are going to sit up, in a real, substantial chair. After that, you'll be walking before you know it."

The silly tears came to my eyes.

"I am grateful...." I faltered.

"Don't be," he said cheerfully, "if you dislike the sensation. It's all in the interest of science, you know."

He snapped his fingers at Wiggles, and got up to go.

"I'm going for Sarah," he said, "you must be taken back to your room now. It's getting chilly."

Once having established me in my room, Dr. Denton bent over me.

"And," he said, very much under his breath, "won't you consider my proposal? I meant it, you know!"

And then he had gone.

I'd like to accept him, out of spite, Diary. And, never having expected a proposal, I find even this one somehow exciting.

Diary, if only you could talk!

CHAPTER VII

GREEN HILL October 14

Diary, it is quite two weeks since I have made an entry, but the thrills of actually sitting up, in a big chair, downstairs in front of a seasonable log fire, and the even more exciting adventure of short wheel-chair rides in the sheltered paths of a chrysanthemum garden, have for the moment entirely occupied my time and thoughts. Even to the exclusion of you! And now, Father is talking of taking me South for the winter. Just as soon as I am able to walk a little, he wants to take me--and Sarah--and Wiggles--to Florida, so that I need not undergo the trials of a Northern winter.

I am worried about Father. He does not look, and is not, at all well.

The old trouble, which dates back to his Spanish-American War days, has returned, and with it, disquieting heart symptoms. I got Dr. Mac off in a corner, lately, and asked him to tell me truly what he thought of Father's condition. "He seems so _tired_ all the time," I said. And Dr. Mac looked very grave.

"La.s.sie," he told me, "Your father's a sick man. And a careless one.

He's not minded his own aches and pains all these years, nor spared himself. And he's not as young as he was."

When I said something to Father, he laughed at me.

"MacAllister is an old woman," he said, "fussing and fretting. I'll be all right presently, my little girl. Don't worry. The main thing is to get you on your feet, and then we'll be off to Florida for a long, long holiday. Bless that boy!" he added, and I knew that he meant Dr.

Denton.

Well, I bless him too, when Sarah wheels me down the garden paths and I reach out to touch the big friendly flowers. I feel so strong, so strong! They have to watch me now, for I am like to do all manner of foolish things, with the old languor gone, and the new red blood singing through my veins.

But when Doctor Denton comes and looks at me out of those cool eyes, and asks, "Well, how are the tantrums lately, Miss Carroll?" I'm in no mood for blessing him then!

GREEN HILL October 20

Oh! Oh! Diary, if you ever go automobiling, you'll never be content to sit in my desk drawer again. It's too wonderful! This morning, bundled up to my eyes, I was taken from my chair, lifted into Mr. John Denton's great, grey, purring beast, and with Dr. William Denton at the wheel, and Father and Mr. Denton beside me, I was taken, quietly and smoothly, over the hill road, down the valley, and through the wide Meadow Road, on my first tour of exploration.

Eleven years! Eleven years!

Back through the village we came, after an all too short half-hour.

Somehow the news had spread, and from every gate and window, hands waved and friendly faces peered. They were glad to see me, the Green Hill people.

"Is she crying?" asked Dr. Denton at the wheel, with interest.

I wanted to. I wanted to cry and laugh and shout all at once. Instead I folded my hands more tightly in Father's and said demurely, "Sorry, but she isn't."

Dr. Denton nodded, slouched down in his seat, his strong brown hands doing marvellous things to the wheel.

"Please," I asked Mr. Denton, "next time you take me riding, will you drive, and may I sit in the front seat and watch you steer?"

Everyone laughed.

"Ask Bill," answered my old friend, "I've just sold him the car."

"You may ride in the front seat--with me," announced Dr. Denton graciously, before I had time to withdraw my request, "always providing that you do not clutch my arm at inopportune moments, or scream as you did six minutes back," he added, "when that mongrel pup appeared on the horizon, a good mile away."

"I don't think," I said, "that, after all, I'd care for the front seat."

"Very well," said the chauffeur obligingly, as, with a turn and twist we rolled up smoothly before my own front door, where Sarah, ap.r.o.n flying in the wind, stood, the tears shining on her dear old face.

Front seat or back, I am to ride every day, as long as the good weather holds, for it has been prescribed for me by no less than two physicians in reputable professional standing; no matter what their respective dispositions. And, Diary, I love it so that, for the sake of the swift silent motion, I would cheerfully ride in any seat whatsoever, regardless of the driver. So low have I sunk in my new pa.s.sion.

"Nervous?" asked Dr. Denton, as he helped carry me to my room. I am conveyed now as children are, on crossed hands with supporting arms about my back.

"Not at all!" I answered indignantly.

"That's good," said he, "for I am a fearsome driver. I have," he said, sinking his voice to an awe-inspiring whisper, "been known to kill my men in my day. And any amount of dogs. Strong men as I pa.s.s have turned pale, and women fainted on the streets!"