“Why didn’t he tell us sooner?” asked Grimshaw politely.
“Pretty good aim,” reflected Ogden.
“Because he thought of me as an old dragon,” returned Miss Frink. “We don’t beat about the bush in this matter any more than in any other. Go and sit down, Hugh, and I’ll give you a really good cup of coffee.”
The boy obeyed, scarlet humiliation upon him again. He knew the secretary’s thoughts. He knew what would leak out all through Farrandale, and that no one would ever realize how he had hated it. He gave a glowering look at Ogden.
That gentleman spoke up cheerfully. “That was my doing, Mr. Grimshaw, that feature of the matter, not telling Miss Frink at first. Mr. Sinclair would have infinitely preferred telling her at once, and I think the full explanation of my not being crippled for life lies in the fact that he has been bedridden and weak; but my motto is always, ‘All’s well that ends well.’ Isn’t it yours, too, Mr. Grimshaw?”
“Has it ended?” returned the secretary, as lightly as he was able.
CHAPTER XX
A PARTING INTERVIEW
Although Miss Frink had presented herself so promptly at breakfast that morning, she had been as sleepless as Adèle. Waves of wonder and joy had passed over her in the consideration of her happiness, and kept her awake. That honest boy—honest in spite of the part he had been induced to play—admired her, loved her. He had said so, and she believed him. She had not thought her life empty before, but now she felt compassion for her past. Her brain seethed with plans and possibilities, and certain charitable institutions lost a great deal of money that night.