"What do you want of me?"
"Ah, Mademoiselle! Kind Mademoiselle!" purred the great creature—and Ruth knew well what his villainous smile must look like, although she could not see it. "May the unfortunate vagabond musician speak a single word into Mademoiselle's ear?"
"You have spoken several words into it already, sir," said Ruth, sharply. "What do you want?"
"Ah! the Mademoiselle is so practical," murmured the harpist again.
"Be quick," commanded Ruth, for although she had a strong repugnance for the fellow there was no reason why she should fear him, with so many people within call. "State your reason for stopping me, sir."
"The Mademoiselle is from the school—the institute where learning is taught the lo-fe-ly Misses?"
He thus made three syllables of "lovely" and Ruth knew that he leered like a Billiken in the dark.
"I am at Briarwood Hall—yes," she said.
"I have seen the kind Mademoiselle before," said the man. "On the boat on that other so-beeg lake—Osago, is it?"
"On the Lanawaxa—yes," admitted Ruth.