"Not in a case of poisoning." Mrs.
Cavendish's clear voice startled me. "Dr.
Bauerstein was saying yesterday that,
owing to the general ignorance of the more
uncommon poisons among the medical
profession, there were probably countless
cases of poisoning quite unsuspected."
"Why,
Mary,
what
a
gruesome
conversation!" cried Mrs. Inglethorp. "It
makes me feel as if a goose were walking
over my grave.
Oh, there's Cynthia!"
"I should like to see them!" cried Cynthia
with dignity.
"I have got a cousin who is nursing," I
remarked. "And she is terrified of
'Sisters'."
"I don't wonder. Sisters are, you know,
Mr. Hastings. They simply are! You've
no idea! But I'm not a nurse, thank
heaven, I work in the dispensary."
"How many people do you poison?" I
asked, smiling.
A young girl in V. A. D. uniform ran lightly
across the lawn.
Cynthia smiled too.
"Why, Cynthia, you are late to-day. This is
Mr. Hastings Miss Murdoch."
"Cynthia," called Mrs. Inglethorp, "do
you think you could write a few notes
for me?"
Cynthia Murdoch was a fresh-looking
young creature, full of life and vigour. She
tossed off her little V. A. D. cap, and I
admired the great loose waves of her
auburn hair, and the smallness and
whiteness of the hand she held out to claim
her tea. With dark eyes and eyelashes she
would have been a beauty.
She flung herself down on the ground
beside John, and as I handed her a plate of
sandwiches she smiled up at me. Sit down
here on the grass, do. It's ever so much
nicer."
I dropped down obediently.
"You work at Tadminster, don't you, Miss
Murdoch?"
She nodded.
"For my sins."
"Do they bully you, then?" I asked, smiling.
"Oh, hundreds!" she said.
"Certainly, Aunt Emily."
She
jumped
up
promptly,
and
something in her manner reminded me
that her position was a dependent one,
and that Mrs. Inglethorp, kind as she
might be in the main, did not allow her
to forget it.
My hostess turned to me.