“A little talk with a little girl will not hinder you too much, will it?” she queried, glancing at the group of gentlemen that had shrunk back at her approach.
“Do you call that hindrance which relieves one from listening to quotations of bank stock at an evening reception?”
She shook her head with a confused movement, and led him up before a stand of flowering exotics.
“I want to tell you something,” she said eagerly but with a marked timidity also, the tall form beside her looked so imposing for all its encouraging bend. “I beg your pardon if I am doing wrong, but papa regards you with such esteem and—Mr. Sylvester do you know a man by the name of Stadler?”
Astonished at such a question from lips so young and dainty, he turned and surveyed her for a moment with quick surprise. Something in her aspect struck him. He answered at once and without circumlocution. “Yes, if you refer to that spry keen-faced man, just entering the supper-room.”
“Do you know his companion?” she proceeded; “the portly, highly pompous-looking gentleman with the gold eye-glasses? Look quickly.”
“No.” There was an uneasiness in his tone however that struck her painfully.
“He is a stranger in town; has not the honor of your acquaintance he says, but from the questions he asked, I judge he has a great interest in your affairs. He spoke of being connected with mines in Colorado. I was sitting behind a curtain and overheard what was said.”
Mr. Sylvester turned pale and regarded her attentively. “Might I be so bold,” he inquired after a moment, “as to ask you what that was?”
“Yes, sir, certainly, but it is even harder for me to repeat than it was for me to hear. He inquired about your domestic concerns, your home and your income,” she murmured blushing; “and then said, in what I thought was a somewhat exulting tone, that in two months or so we should see you go South for your health or—Is not that enough for me to tell you, Mr. Sylvester?”