The library at the Carters’ home was a beautiful room with not one jarring note. Low bookshelves built into the walls were filled with books in rich bindings. Costly rugs covered the floors. The walls were hung with signed etchings and rare prints. Ordinarily George Wright would have taken great pleasure in such a room, but now he only looked upon it as just so much more evidence of the selfishness of the females of the Carter family and the unremitting toil of the male.
He had not yet met any of the girls, but without hesitation he came forward, his step singularly light for one of his build. He spoke before Helen, whose back was towards the door, had even become aware of his presence. She gave a little gasp, sprang from the low ottoman, and faced the young physician, a spirit of antagonism showing from the first in her flashing eyes and sensitive nostrils. Helen had what Nan called “a speaking nose,” and every emotion was shown as clearly by her nose as by some persons’ eyes and others’ mouths.
“I want to speak to Miss Douglas Carter; but since all of you are here, perhaps it might be just as well for me to speak to all of you.” The last part of his speech was made to Helen, whose attitude of defiance was unmistakable.
“I am Douglas,” said the elder girl, rising and giving her hand graciously to the young man whose blue eyes showed no gleam of humour now and whose long upper lip was pulled down so far and so grimly that his perfect teeth could not do their part towards taking from the rugged homeliness of his face. “This is Helen, this Nan, and this Lucy.”
The girls shook hands with him, all but Helen. She bowed, but as she bowed backwards, as it were, that is, jerked her chin up rather than down, it did not pass for courtesy.
“Won’t you sit down?” asked Douglas.
“Well, yes, – I’ve got to talk to you girls like a Dutch uncle and I might just as well get down to it.”
“I have an engagement,” said Helen icily, consulting her tiny wrist watch, “so I will be excused.”
“What time is your engagement?”
“Whenever I choose to keep it.”
“Well, then I think you will choose to keep it a little later. I have one, too, but am going to spare a few minutes to talk about your father, and I think it best for all of you to be present.”
Douglas drew Helen down beside her. The girl was trembling just like a young horse who has felt the first spur. Robert Carter had always said that Helen was the best child in the world just so long as she had her own way. Fortunately her own way was not a very wrong way as a rule, but if there were a clash of wills, good-by to the will that was not hers.
Who was this bushy-eyebrowed young Caliban who came there ordering her about? She would show him! But in the meantime Douglas had an arm around her and Caliban was talking.
“Your father is a very ill man and as his physician I feel compelled to have a very serious conversation with the family.”
“Will he die?” whispered Lucy, all pertness gone from her young face.
“No, my dear, he will not die; but he may do worse than die unless he can be allowed to take the rest that he should have been taking for years.”
“What could be worse than death?” sobbed Nan.
“Uselessness! Chronic nervous prostration! His nerves have lost their elasticity and nothing will cure him but a long rest, absolutely free from care. Worries of all kinds, business, financial, family, every kind, must be kept from him. As I told your mother yesterday, a sea voyage would be the best thing for him, a long, lazy trip. When one gets on the water out of sight of land he kind of loses his identity in the immensity of Creation. That is what I want your father to do – lose his identity. Your mother must go with him to nurse him – he won’t need much nursing, fortunately. And now you girls have got to decide among yourselves what is best to do. I know your financial affairs are none of my business – ”
“Ahem – ” from Helen.
“But I have to make your business my business for the time being on account of my patient. Your father tells me he has absolutely no income except what he gets from his profession. You know that, I suppose?”
“Why no – that is – we – ” hesitated Douglas. “Father never talked business with us.”
“Um hum! I see! Just gave you ample allowances and let you spend ’em?”
“We have never had allowances,” spoke Nan with her funny drawl. “Just made bills instead.”
Dr. Wright flashed an amused look at the girl and for the first time they became aware of the fact that he had a very handsome set of teeth.
“Well, now, for a year I see nothing but for you to manage with very little and maybe not that. You own this house.”
“Of course!” from the scornful Helen. “We can easily keep house here while our parents are away.”
“But, Helen, keep house on what?” asked Douglas.
“Why, just keep house! Just go on living here.”
“But when Father stops working, there is no more money. Can’t you see?”
“Well, then, we will have to charge.”
“Yes, charge on, and when your father gets well, if he does get well, he will have an accumulation of bills to meet which will be so good for his health, won’t it?” The young man looked the scorn which he felt for Helen and addressed all of his remarks after that to Douglas, who listened attentively and gratefully. She well knew it was no pleasant task for him to plunge into their financial affairs, but he explained to her that it was important for his patient to leave town immediately if the change was to come in time, and that left no opportunity for them to consult the friends and relatives who would be the natural ones to go to in this predicament.
“Your mother wishes you to act in her stead and your father is to give you power of attorney so you can attend to any business for him. Can I trust you to get them ready, without bustle and confusion, by to-night? They can take the train to New York leaving here at eight. They can take a boat to the Bermudas and Panama which sails to-morrow. I will go to New York with them and see that they get off safely.”
“Oh, you are very kind,” murmured Douglas.
“Not at all! I have business in New York, anyhow, and I know the surgeon on that particular boat, an old classmate of mine, and I want to put him on to your father’s case. But now we come to the part you girls are to play. It is going to be pretty hard on you, but you are not to see your father before he goes. It would be exciting for him and I want him to avoid all excitement. Arrangements must be made and we must get him off quietly, without bustle. If he sees you, he will begin to question you about what you are going to do while he is away, and as you don’t know yourselves, the old habit that is as much a part of the whole family as fingers and toes will assert itself, and the burden will fall on him, as usual, and I can assure you I will not answer for the consequences if one more ounce of worry is put on that tired brain. I am going to bring a notary public so he can give you, Miss Douglas, power of attorney to transact any business for him. I am loath to bring even this matter to him, but that is necessary. As for what you are to do with yourselves after your parents leave, that is, of course, for you and your friends to decide. My province as a nerve specialist ends when I get my patient away, but begins again on his return, and if he comes back and finds debts waiting for him, I am pretty sure all the good of the voyage will be done away with. I think his mania is to keep out of debt. How he has managed to do it I can’t see, but he tells me the bills are paid up to date. I am awfully sorry for all of you, but I am much sorrier for that fine, unselfish nature upstairs who has borne the heat of the burden absolutely unassisted until he has fallen under it.”
“Oh, Dr. Wright! Don’t! Don’t!” wailed Douglas.
“Brute!” hissed Helen, but whether