"Make it short," said the old man. "I'm awful fidgety to git
off."
I made it very short, and then, valises in hand, we quietly
took our way to the kitchen.
"How this floor does creak!" said Uncle Beamish. "Git on
your overcoat and shoes as quick as you can, and we'll leave the
note on this table."
I had just shaken myself into my overcoat when Uncle Beamish gave
a subdued exclamation, and quickly turning, I saw entering the
kitchen a female figure in winter wraps and carrying a hand-bag.
"By George!" whispered the old man, "it's the patient!"
The figure advanced directly toward me.
"Oh, Dr. Glover!" she whispered, "I am so glad to get down
before you went away!"
I stared in amazement at the speaker, but even in the dim light I
recognized her. This was the human being whose expected presence
at the Collingwood mansion was taking me there to spend
Christmas.
"Kitty!" I exclaimed--"Miss Burroughs, I mean,--what is the
meaning of this?"
"Don't ask me for any meanings now," she said. "I want you
and your uncle to take me to the Collingwoods'. I suppose you
are on your way there, for they wrote you were coming. And oh!
let us be quick, for I'm afraid Jane will come down, and she will
be sure to wake up aunty. I saw one of you go out to the barn,
and knew you intended to leave, so I got ready just as fast as I
could. But I must leave some word for aunty."
"I have written a note," said I.
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