Graham. "And you did not give her my
message! Oh, Dorothy!"
Her tone was almost like a cry of pain. Dorothy was startled. "She
wouldn't wait, mother, and--and of course it _was_ strange she came
to-day when she hasn't called for ages and ages! I didn't think she
would, or I wouldn't have gone," she explained.
Mrs. Graham did not argue the point. She lay down on the sofa and closed
her eyes. Dorothy longed to ask her about the American cousins, but did
not dare. Presently she poured out a cup of tea and brought it to her
mother.
"If you take some tea you will feel better, mother," she said softly.
"If I had asked Dick to do something for me he would have done it,
Dorothy," said Mrs. Graham bitterly, and without seeming to notice the
tea she got up and gathered her things together. "I have a headache,"
she said. "I am not coming down again. Father will not be home to-night,
so you can tell Louisa there will be no need to lay the cloth for
dinner. I don't wish any one to come near me." And she went out of the
room.
Poor Dorothy felt dreadfully uncomfortable and crestfallen. She had been
alone all day, and it did seem such a little thing to go to the post
with Helen Jones, who knew all about her costume, and quite agreed with
her that it was a 'horrid shame' for people to be so careless as to have
_fires_, when they had the charge of other people's things.
Louisa had scolded her, and been very cross when she came in, but
Dorothy really saw no reason why it mattered very much what Miss
Addiscombe thought.
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