"A friend did," replied Van Berg regretfully; "but he won't again."
"I'm not so sure about that; my music must have frightened you away."
"I listened until I feared the police might think I had designs against the house. I didn't know you were a musician. Miss Mayhew, I'm always finding out something new about you, and I'm going to ask you this evening to sing again for me a ballad the melody of which reminded me of a running brook. It took hold on my fancy and has been running in my head ever since."
"Oh, you won't like that; it's a silly, sentimental little thing.
I don't wonder you paused and retreated."
"Spare me, Miss Ida; I already feel that it was a faint-hearted retreat, in which I suffered serious loss. I have accounted for myself since we parted; how did YOU spend the time? Of course you yawned over your morning's fatigue, and took a long nap."
"Indeed I did not sleep a wink. Why should I be any more indolent than yourself? I read most of the afternoon, and drummed on the piano in the evening."
"I know that I like your drumming, but am not yet sure about your author; but he must be an exceedingly interesting one, to hold your attention a long hot afternoon."
Ida colored in sudden embarrassment, but said, after a moment: "I shall not gratify your curiosity any further, for you would laugh at me again if I told you."
"Now, indeed, you have piqued my curiosity."
"Since you, a man, admit having so much of this feminine weakness,
I who am only a woman may be pardoned for showing just a little.
What work was it that so absorbed you yesterday afternoon that you
ceased to be human in your needs?"