Robert took Nancy Ellen home, and then drove to Bates Corners with
Kate.
"In a few days now I hope we can see each other oftener," he said,
on the way. "I got a car yesterday, and it doesn't seem so
complicated. Any intelligent person can learn to drive in a short
time. I like it so much, and I knew I'd have such constant use
for it that -- now this is a secret -- I ordered another for Nancy
Ellen, so she can drive about town, and run out here as she
chooses. Will she be pleased?"
"She'll be overjoyed! That was dear of you, Robert. Only one
thing in world would please her more," said Kate.
"What's that?" asked Robert.
Kate looked him in the eye, and smiled.
"Oh," he said. "But there is nothing in it!"
"Except TALK, that worries and humiliates Nancy Ellen," said Kate.
"Kate," he said suddenly, "if you were in my shoes, what would you
do?"
"The next time I got a phone call, or a note from Mrs. Southey,
and she was having one of those terrible headaches, I should say:
'I'm dreadfully sorry, Mrs. Southey, but a breath of talk that
might be unpleasant for you, and for my wife, has come to my ear,
so I know you'll think it wiser to call Dr. Mills, who can serve
you better than I. In a great rush this afternoon. Good-bye!'
THAT is what I should do, Robert, and I should do it quickly, and
emphatically. Then I should interest Nancy Ellen in her car for a
time, and then I should keep my eyes open, and the first time I
found in my practice a sound baby with a clean bill of health, and
no encumbrances, I should have it dressed attractively, and bestow
it on Nancy Ellen as casually as I did the car. And in the
meantime, love her plenty, Robert. You can never know how she
FEELS about this; and it's in no way her fault. She couldn't
possibly have known; while you would have married her just the
same if you had known. Isn't that so?"
"It's quite so. Kate, I think your head is level, and I'll follow
your advice to the letter. Now you have 'healed my lame leg,' as
the dog said in McGuffey's Third, what can I do for THIS poor
dog?"
"Nothing," said Kate. "I've got to hold still, and take it. Life
will do the doing. I don't want to croak, but remember my word,
it will do plenty."
"We'll come often," he said as he turned to go back.
Kate slowly walked up the path, dreading to meet Adam. He
evidently had been watching for her, for he came around the corner
of the house, took her arm, and they walked up the steps and into
the living room together. She looked at him; he looked at her.
At last he said: "I'm afraid that a good deal of this is my
fault, Mother."