"Why, Brent, and the goddess, and the railroad," she replied.
"Goddess, my dear? What goddess?"
She and Jane exchanged glances.
"He's suspected of having a love somewhere; some mysterious love whom he meets in the moonlit forest of Arden—when it's moonlight; and, maybe, when it isn't."
"What have you to support this?" the old gentleman frowned. He, too, had sometimes wondered what took Brent away so frequently of late. These were uncomfortable thoughts to the Colonel, who allowed suspicions no place in his estimate of people.
"Oh, we just support it for the sake of gossip," she laughed. "Aunt Timmie dreamed it, I believe."
"I thought you were serious," he smiled, yet showing his distaste for the subject, "nor will I permit any gossiping here!"
"But, Heavens, Daddy—"
"My dear," he interrupted her, "I trust you will never learn to gossip. It is purely a trade, carried on by a breed of fawning Judases—of self-satisfied butchers, to deal in the choicest cuts of their unsuspecting friends' characters. The shelter of my roof must also afford protection to the good name of my guest."
"'Good name' in the present instance is hardly a calculable statement," she murmured, for Ann could be biting, as well as sweet, when her feelings were touched.