Then he closed his eyes once more, drew a long sigh and sank lower in the chair. Donald Reynolds stood irresolute, troubled but unconvinced and ready to argue his case still.
"You had better go," Betsey had the courage to tell him with blunt plainness. "Mr. Reynolds will be better when you are out of sight. There's no use in your waiting to talk to Miss Miranda."
Donald Reynolds, it seemed, thought the same thing. He took up his hat, began to say something, perhaps in apology or excuse for what he had done, made such small success of it that he gave up the attempt, and turned to the door. The two beside Mr. Reynolds paid little attention to his going, only Dick hailed his departure with a defiant caw.
"I suppose he is telling himself that he has acted for the best," commented David bitterly. "At least he has sense enough to seem a little sorry for what he has done."
"I see now why Miss Miranda has looked so worried," Betsey added. "She has been afraid he would come here and say just such cruel, untrue things."
When David had brought a glass of water for Mr. Reynolds and Betsey had propped him up with cushions, he seemed to feel better, although still to be rather dazed.
"Did he mean it? Was he right?" he ques-
