"I thought you would be," said Hilda triumphantly; "but what do you think of her? Isn't she handsome?"
"Very," answered Page, looking dreamily out upon the water.
"Haven't you fallen in love with her, you wooden man?"
"Hardly, yet. I suppose I shall, though," he added resignedly.
Mrs. Page laughed so gleefully that he smiled. "It is all the queerest thing," she said with sudden serious zest. "I was belated in every sort of way about getting down here this year, and when I was finally ready it suddenly came over me that Uncle Richard was with Aunt Love in the character of a semi-invalid, and that it would be civil in me to call on him once, as he had come to see me on his way through the city."
"It is odd that Jack hasn't mentioned his father's being at Pearfield, or his not being well. To be sure, I haven't seen Jack since last March, still he would naturally have mentioned it in the few letters I've had from him."
Mrs. Page lifted her finger impressively. "Jack doesn't know one word about his father's illness. Be sure you don't mention it to him."
"Call it fatigue. It isn't illness, is it?"
"Why, Gorham Page, he had a stroke early this spring."
"No! Why, that is too bad. Surely it is wrong to keep it from Jack," said Page with a strong mental uprising of resentment against unknown scheming Bryants. Of course that innocent, inexperienced young creature of the train would have no word in the matter.