"Upon my word! Isn't the poor pater exempt?" Tom laughed, coming back.
"I want it for the book Josie and I are making for you to take away
with you, 'Winton Snap-shots.' We'll call it 'The Country Doctor.'"
Tom looked at the gig, moving slowly off down the road now. He hated
to say so, but he wished Hilary would not put that particular snap-shot
in. He had a foreboding that it was going to make him a bit
uncomfortable--later--when the time for decision came; though, as for
that, he had already decided--beyond thought of change. He wished that
the pater hadn't set his heart on his coming back here to practice--and
he wished, too, that Hilary hadn't taken that photo.
"Paul's late," he said presently.
"I'm afraid she isn't coming."
"It's past twelve," Tom glanced at the sun. "Maybe we'd better walk on
a bit."
But they had walked a considerable bit, all the way to the parsonage,
in fact, before they saw anything of Pauline. There, she met them at
the gate. "Have you seen any trace of Patience--and Bedelia?" she
asked eagerly.
"Patience and Bedelia?" Hilary repeated wonderingly.
"They're both missing, and it's pretty safe guessing they're together.
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