Doctor's Orders by Eleanor Farnes Page B

increasingly anxious and irritable mood. She was anxious lest any accident had befallen Anthea; but she did not really think this had happened. She thought it more likely that Anthea had been led away by some whim which would need explaining, and she was angry because Anthea’s whims so often put them both in a bad light with the doctor. He was used to people who knew how to behave ... and there she was at the root of the trouble, Antoinette. Who could compete with such elegance? Especially when that elegance seemed to be firmly established in the doctor’s favors. There had been quite an agreeable friendliness in the air that afternoon, in spite of Anthea’s defection; but it had vanished like a puff of smoke when Antoinette arrived, with her affectionate smiles for him, her gentle teasing.
    So that when, at last, Anthea did arrive—looking moreover, extremely happy and well and gay, and not nearly as repentant as she should have been — Diana felt more angry than ever. Her explanations, also, were far from adequate, and as Diana could not relieve her feelings in the car, with the hired driver in front, she retired into an annoyed silence, which the sight of Anthea’s shining eyes did nothing to decrease.
    There was almost a quarrel between them at the hotel.
    “But I tell you,” said Anthea, “I happened to meet Hans, from the hotel here. And I had quite a lot of time before meeting you, so when he offered to show me the town, I was delighted. And I forgot all about the time; and when I did remember, I thought it was too late, Dr. Frederic was sure to have skipped us, and so I didn’t hurry.”
    Diana felt completely let down. She saw now why Anthea had wanted to separate in the town. It had all been arranged. And she had been left to apologize, to worry, to waste the doctor’s time, to feel de trop when Antoinette arrived. She turned and went out of Anthea’s room, into her own, standing by the window and staring out, unappreciatively, at the lakes and mountains and woods. And slowly her anger with Anthea died down, and she stood there miserably, admitting to herself that she was unhappy about the doctor.

 
    CHAPTER FIVE
    Diana sat in the bus, which jogged its way along the valley roads, and, amazingly, with its foil load of passengers, climbed the mountain ones: She was on her way, without Anthea, to do some shopping, and because she had seen exactly what she wanted in the town where Dr. Frederic lived, she was driving there by bus, on this lovely summer’s day. Anthea had elected to stay behind, and Diana suspected, a little uncomfortably, that she stayed because she wanted to find Hans and be with him: and because Diana did not feel justified in ordering a car unless it were for Anthea’s benefit, she was now in this crowded bus. In some ways, she reflected, the bus had advantages over the car. It did not go so quickly, so that one saw more of the countryside; and it was filled with a constantly-changing assortment of passengers, who provided her with never-ending interest: people who waited at their little farms for the bus, and entered it with baskets full of produce; little provincial people off to visit relatives for the day, exchanging greetings with other passengers, conversing in the dialect which Diana could not easily understand.
    There was a special delight in being alone, Diana had to admit; in leaving the bus when it reached the town, and going round the shops in search of the material she wanted. Madame de Luzy was to teach her to do the applique work in organdie that Diana had so often admired in the shops. She would make a tablecloth and napkins to match, and they could go into the hope chest, against the time of her possible marriage. Not that Diana had a hope chest in reality, but there were long evenings at the Morgenberg when her idle fingers wanted something to do, and this elegant work could be the foundation of the lovely things she would like to have in it.
    The oblique references