JEANNE, LEFT ALONE WITH THE STRANGERS, INSPECTED THEM WITH INTEREST
"You have read my letter?" he asked, addressing the older man.
"Yes."
"Then pardon me, if I suggest that you grant me an interview apart from these young people. I have much to say to you, Mr. Huntington."
"In here," said the mild gentleman, opening a door.
"Remain where you are, Jeannette," prompted her father.
Jeannette, left alone with the strangers, inspected them with interest. The girls looked like their mother, she decided; rather smooth and polished on the outside—like whitefish, for instance, with round, hard grayish eyes. The boy's eyes were different; yellow, she thought, or very pale brown. His upper lip lifted in a queer way, as if nothing quite pleased him. They were all rather colorless as to skin. She had seen children—there had been several on the train, in fact—whose looks were more pleasing.
She began to wonder after a while if somebody ought not to say something. Was it her place to speak? But she couldn't think of a thing to say. She felt relieved when the three young Huntingtons began to talk to one another. Now and again she caught a familiar word; but many of their phrases were quite new to her. At any rate, they were not speaking French; she had heard her father speak that. She had heard too little slang to be able to recognize or understand it.
Jeanne had risen from her chair because her father had risen from his. She thought now that perhaps she ought to resume her seat; but no one had said, as Old Captain always did: "Set right down, Honey, an' stay as long as ye like." Visiting Old Captain was certainly much more comfortable.
Still doubtful, Jeanne took a chance. She backed up and sat down, but Harold, yielding to one of his sudden malicious impulses, jerked the chair away. Of course she landed on the floor. Worst of all, her skirt pulled up; and there, for all the world to see, was a section of frayed rope dangling from below her knee. The shoestring showed, too.