
The young doctor stamped vehemently up the marble steps, to warm hisfeet, and once in the warm, flower-scented halls, let a little shiverescape him. The butler was new—he was always new, the doctorthought—and actually didn't know him.
"Mrs. Allen is at bridge, sir, with a party: she asks to be excused,"he began mechanically.
("That's good!" Stanchon felt tempted to say, "and I hope the girlsare out, too!") As if in answer to this indiscretion, the new butlerdroned on:
"Miss Alida is at her riding-lesson and Miss Suzanne is—is engaged——"
("Now, what particular infernal idiocy is Suzanne at, I wonder?"Stanchon pondered, still smiling lightly at the butler and warminghimself at every breath.)
"Mr. Edmund is—I think he could be found, sir," the voice went on.
("I don't doubt it," Stanchon agreed mentally, "at the side board, nodoubt; a nice time of day for a lad of twenty to be hanging about thehouse!")
But all he said was:
"I am the doctor. I called to see Miss Mary."
"Oh!" Even this new butler assumed a look of burdened intelligence; heleaned toward the visitor, "Oh, yes, sir—Miss Mary. I understood that