"
"What do you mean?" asked Mavis.
"Why, that much, much as I love you, I'm not going to risk the loss
of my winter fire, hot-water bottles, and books, for getting mixed
up in any scrape pretty Mavis gets herself into."
The next morning Mavis went to business in a state bordering on
distraction. The baby was not one whit better, and even hopeful Mrs
Trivett had shaken her head sadly. But she had pointed out that
Mavis could not help matters by remaining at home; she also promised
to send for a doctor should the baby's health not improve in the
course of the morning. Mavis was so distraught that she stared
wildly at the one or two people she chanced to meet, who, knowing
her, seemed disposed to stop and speak. She wondered if she should
let her lover know the disquieting state of his son's health. So
far, she had not told him of her coming to Melkbridge, wishing the
inevitable meeting to come as a delightful surprise. When she got to
the office, she found a long letter from Windebank, which she
scarcely read, so greatly was her mind disturbed. She only noted the
request on which he was always insisting, namely, that she was at
once to communicate with him should she find herself in trouble.
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