Hugh frowned as he read. Poor Adèle! What lay before her now? He dreaded to meet her at breakfast, and hoped that she would decide to leave Farrandale. Ogden had assured him, before they parted last night, that she had no more idea of teaching in this town than she had of flying to the moon.
Adèle did not come to breakfast, and, as for Ogden, it took some hardihood for him to present himself to his hostess that morning. His gay, debonair look was the same as usual when she greeted him. She was already seated behind the coffee percolator when he came in, and, instead of going to his place, he came to her and held out his hand, with an odd chuckle.
“I’m as nervous as a cat this morning,” he said, meeting her bright eyes.
After a little hesitation she gave him her hand for a quick shake. “What is it: your conscience or your digestion?” she inquired.
Leonard Grimshaw was in his place watching their every move as a cat watches a mouse; and here Hugh came into the room. He, too, approached Miss Frink’s chair, and she held his hand while she addressed her secretary.
“Leonard,” she began—and it was only in her most serious moments that she thus addressed him—“I have a great surprise for you. This young man who put me under such obligation and to whom we are so much attached, is my grand-nephew, Hugh Sinclair. I have known it only a short time.”
Grimshaw felt that but for Adèle’s warning he should have collapsed. As it was, he turned pale under the discovery of his employer’s attitude toward the culprit.
“I suppose he knew it,” he returned, with a carefully respectful manner.
“Yes, he knew it,” returned Miss Frink, smiling up at Hugh and still retaining the hand that clasped hers closely.