"You couldn't," said Mrs. Hodge with emphasis, "catch Hodge at a loss. He was ready for anything. He'd have been proud to see Nellie to-day. Look what the papers are saying of her!"
"Aye, that she does: she deserves all Dale Bannister can do for her."
Philip scented danger in this topic, and changed the subject.
"In a day or two, I expect. She's much better this morning. She's asked to see the papers, and I'm going to take her the _Chronicle_."
"How delightful to read of one's heroic actions! I have never enjoyed the sensation."
"Nor ever will, young man, if you spend all your time loafing," said Mrs. Hodge incisively.
"Well, there must be some ordinary people," protested Philip. "The _rôle_ is unappreciated, so it's the more creditable in me to stick to it."
"A parcel of nonsense! Where's that paper?"
She took it, went upstairs, and gave it to Nellie.
"There, read that. See what they say about you, my dearie. I'm going to see little Roberts, and I shall be back in an hour. You've got the bell by you, and the nurse'll hear you."
Nellie, left alone, began to read the _Chronicle_. She read the whole account from beginning to end, the article in praise of her, and, in the later edition, the editor's romantic forecast. Then she put the papers aside, exclaiming: "Oh, if it could be true!" and lay back with closed eyes.
A few days later she made her first appearance in the drawing room, where she held a little court. Her mother hung over all, anticipating far more wants than the patient was likely to feel, and by constant anxious questions almost producing the fatigue she wished to guard against. Tora Smith was there, in a state of gleeful adoration; and Arthur Angell, his sorrows temporarily laid aside, ready with a mock heroic ode; and Philip Hume, new come from Mrs. Roberts' with good news and a high eulogy on Dr. Spink's most marked and assiduous attention.
"I really believe," he said, with a laugh, "that Mrs. Roberts will have another chance of being a Denborough doctor's wife, if she likes."
"That would be an ideal ending," said Tora.
"Therefore it will not happen," Arthur remarked.
"Poets are allowed to be pessimistic," rejoined Tora. "But you're wrong, Mr. Angell. Ideal things do happen."