"Well, Henry, send your doctor away. What possible use is he now?"

Mr. Wilcox ran his eye over the house. He had a vague feeling that he
must stand firm and support the doctor. He himself might need support,
for there was trouble ahead.

"It all turns on affection now," said Margaret. "Affection. Don't you
see?" Resuming her usual methods, she wrote the word on the house with
her finger. "Surely you see. I like Helen very much, you not so much.
Mr. Mansbridge doesn't know her. That's all. And affection, when
reciprocated, gives rights. Put that down in your note-book, Mr.
Mansbridge. It's a useful formula."

Henry told her to be calm.

"You don't know what you want yourselves," said Margaret, folding her
arms. "For one sensible remark I will let you in. But you cannot make
it. You would trouble my sister for no reason. I will not permit it.
I'll stand here all the day sooner."

"Mansbridge," said Henry in a low voice, "perhaps not now."

The pack was breaking up. At a sign from his master, Crane also went
back into the car.

"Now, Henry, you," she said gently. None of her bitterness had been
directed at him. "Go away now, dear. I shall want your advice later, no
doubt. Forgive me if I have been cross. But, seriously, you must go."

He was too stupid to leave her. Now it was Mr. Mansbridge who called in
a low voice to him.

"I shall soon find you down at Dolly's," she called, as the gate at last
clanged between them. The fly moved out of the way, the motor backed,
turned a little, backed again, and turned in the narrow road. A string
of farm carts came up in the middle; but she waited through all, for
there was no hurry. When all was over and the car had started, she
opened the door. "Oh, my darling!" she said. "My darling, forgive me."
Helen was standing in the hall.

CHAPTER XXXVII

Margaret bolted the door on the inside. Then she would have kissed her
sister, but Helen, in a dignified voice, that came strangely from her,
said:

"Convenient! You did not tell me that the books were unpacked. I have
found nearly everything that I want."

"I told you nothing that was true."

"It has been a great surprise, certainly. Has Aunt Juley been ill?"

"Helen, you wouldn't think I'd invent that?"

"I suppose not," said Helen, turning away, and crying a very little.
"But one loses faith in everything after this."

"We thought it was illness, but even then--I haven't behaved worthily."

Helen selected ano