CHAPTER EIGHTWhen Macdonald went into the kitchen again, Margie was rolling out pastry on the kitchen table, and judging by the smouldering resentment in her eyes, Macdonald wouldn’t have been greatly surprised if she had set about him with the rolling pin.
“You did ought to be properly ashamed,” she burst out: “if she dies, ’twill be your fault, letting her tire herself out talking and worrying when all the doctors say she must have quiet.”
“In spite of what the doctors say, I don’t think talking has done her any harm,” said Macdonald. “She was worrying about the boy, and it was a relief to her mind to talk about him. But I’ll see that her doctor comes out to see her, if you’ll tell me his name——”
“And how pleased d’you think Doctor’ll be, having to come out here again?” she flashed ba
