"Gracious me! I forgot her."
"Theodora, what does this mean?" the doctor demanded breathlessly, as he
rushed up the stairs. Then, at the open door, he paused in sheer
amazement. In the middle of the floor stood Archie Holden, staring at
the bed with a face devoid of all expression. Sitting up in the bed and
staring back at him with a face of injured innocence and pain, was an
unwholesome child of Keltic extraction and unneat exterior, with a dingy
knitted hood in lieu of nightcap, and two chapped hands appearing from
two vast gray sleeves.
Archie appeared to think that it devolved upon him to explain the
situation.
"I'm sorry," he said meekly. "You see, I didn't turn up the gas at
first, but I just sat down on the edge of the bed to take off my shoes.
I didn't know this--this young person was here, and I suppose I sat on
her. But really I can't imagine where she came from. I didn't bring
her."
"Theodora!" said the doctor, sternly.
But Theodora had vanished, to hide her head from the sight of her
protégée, and from the merriment shining in Archie's blue eyes.