"I told you they were Mr. and Mrs. Brown," she said, glibly. "I met them on the train coming from the West, and we got quite well acquainted."
"But their name is not Brown," Bill said, quietly, "tell me what it is,—or, tell me why you don't want to divulge it."
"It is Brown," persisted Azalea, but the way she spoke and the way her eyes fell before Farnsworth's steady gaze, belied her words.
"I'm sorry, but I can't believe you," he said.
"I can't help that," she returned, pertly, and ran away to her own room.
"What's she up to now?" said Patty.
"Part of the queerness," Bill vouchsafed, and said no more about it.
* * * * *
The next day, Azalea went to her room directly after breakfast, and, locking the door, remained there all the morning.
At luncheon she was quiet, and absent-minded, and as soon as the meal was over she went back to her room.