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"When 'e's feeling fit, Miss Keltridge, 'e swears something glorious. Nowadays, it's as much as he can do to trump up henergy to let off a single damn. There! He's calling!" And Ramsdell vanished in the direction of the stairs. Left to herself, Olive tramped home as if the seven-league boots had been upon her feet.
There is no reason that you shouldn't know. Besides, it will be an open secret soon. As soon as things are settled with the trustees, I shall resign." "I am very sorry," Olive said quite simply. His colour came. "It is the only honourable thing for me to do, Miss Keltridge." "I know that," she told him, with a swift return to her old downrightness. "And I am sorry for you, yourself.
And Doctor Keltridge says that you are gaining fast." Reed looked up suddenly, incisively. "Did Doctor Keltridge say that?" he demanded. "Well, not in those exact words; but that was the burden of his song, the motif of his story, if I may speak so shoppishly." Again Prather's hand sought his mustache. "It is quite evident to everybody, Opdyke, that you are on the gain."
"The only chance the idiot woman has " Brenton interrupted. "She is my wife," he reminded the doctor. "I don't care if she is your wife, twenty times over," Doctor Keltridge said vehemently. "We both know the infernal thing that she has done." "But, if she believed it was right " Brenton was beginning faintly. The doctor bore him down.
The college, that section of the college, at least, which dealt with the chemical department, rejoiced greatly, when once Scott Brenton was launched upon his lecture courses. Doctor Keltridge, trustee and medical adviser, though, had a double cause for his rejoicing.
Pastoral conversation had never been especially popular between the two men; yet each of them was well aware that, all things considered, an old-year call was a more fitting visitation than a new-year one for Opdyke. At least one knew the worst of the old year, and some comfort could be taken out of that. Indeed, next morning, Olive Keltridge wished that she had followed out the rector's plan.
The nurse knows what she is about; that is," swiftly she corrected herself; "she would, if Doctor Keltridge would let her alone. If anything does happen to the child, it will be through you." "Through me?" Brenton whitened. "Yes," Katharine answered, reckless of her husband's hurt, reckless, too, of the probable state of his nerves, after his all-night vigil.
None the less, Scott Brenton was quite well aware that no one in the world knew his real self so well as Olive Keltridge. Aware of it, however, he was fully conscious that the fact caused him no regrets at all. Catie, as he still called her on occasion, should, of course, have been the one to comprehend him; but, like the cicada, he merely iterated "Catie didn't."
And, meanwhile, the poor "puffic' fibbous" lay and fidgetted uneasily, while he wondered why Olive Keltridge had chosen that day, of all days, to delay her customary call. She was not ill.
Then a smile broke over the keen face, and the stern eyes lighted, as the doctor spoke. "I surely hope so, Mrs. Brenton," he answered her benignantly. "As you see, I like horse radish with my oysters. How is it about you?" It was not until a good two weeks later that Olive Keltridge came into any actual contact with the new rector.
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