It was Dr. Wright, breaking laws as to speed, presuming on the Red Cross tag that the doctors attach to their cars. Several policemen had noted him as he sped through the suburbs, but felt surely it was a matter of life and death when they saw the Red Cross tag, and let him go unmolested and unfined.
"Here it is, Miss Nan!" he called as he waved the heavy basket, endangering the precious sandwiches. Eager hands drew the basket through an open window while a grinning brakeman and a rather irate conductor got the train started once more.
"Here's some aromatic ammonia! Make Miss Douglas take a teaspoonful in a glass of water," he said to Helen as he handed a small vial to her over Bobby's head. "It almost made me miss the train, but she must have it."
"Oh, Dr. Wright, I am so much obliged to you. You are very kind to us."
"Helen's been making up a wonderfulest true story for me," called Bobby, leaning out dangerously far to see the last of his 'ployer. "So I'm being good an' not worrying Douglas."
There was unalloyed approval now in the blue, blue eyes, and Helen thought, as the young doctor gave one of his rare smiles, that he was really almost handsome.
The lunch did not go begging. Even Cousin Lizzie forgot her disgusting surroundings and deigned to partake of Helen's very good lettuce sandwiches. She even pronounced the coffee from the thermos bottle about the best she had tasted for many a day.
"My cook doesn't make very good coffee. I don't know what she does to it. When we go back to Richmond I think I shall get you to show her how you make it, Helen."
Helen smiled and had not the heart to tell her cousin that her own cook had made the coffee, after all. Of all the young Carters, Miss Somerville was fondest of Helen. She had infinite patience with her foibles and thought her regard for dress and style just as it should be.
"A woman's appearance is a very important factor and too much thought cannot be given it," she would say. Miss Somerville had boasted much beauty in her youth and still was a very handsome old lady, with a quantity of silver white hair and the complexion of a débutante. "Gentlemen are more attracted by becoming clothes than anything else," she declared, "and of course it is nothing but hypocrisy that makes women say they do not wish to attract the opposite sex." Miss Somerville, having had many opportunities to marry, and having chosen single blessedness of her own free will, always spoke with great authority of the male sex. She always called them gentlemen, however, and the way she said "gentlemen" made you think of dignified persons in long-tailed coats and high stocks who paid their addresses on bended knees.