CHAPTER SEVEN
STEPHENS EXPLAINS HIMSELF
IT was perhaps a mistake not to have told all this to Andrée. She had been almost all the afternoon in the woodshed with two baby kittens she adored, quite happy there in the dim light and the quiet, and determined to avoid the possibility of a motor ride with her father. When she came in to dress for supper, everyone was calm again, and Mr. Stephens’ name wasn’t mentioned. After supper Gilbert had to return to the city, and his wife and Edna went with him to the station, but Andrée said she had a headache, and remained behind. She sat in a corner of the veranda, still in the same vague and happy mood in which she had passed the afternoon, glad to be alone.
Presently she saw a familiar figure in the lighted doorway, and she called out, cheerfully—
“Hello, Mr. Stephens!”
“Hello!” he answered, but to her amazement, instead of coming to her, he went on toward the steps.
“Where are you going?” she asked. “To the drugstore? I’ll come with you.”
“No,” he answered. “No ... I was going for a walk.”
“Wait a minute!” she said, and jumping up, went over to him.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. “You’re—queer! Why don’t you sit down and talk to me?”
He glanced uneasily at the row of dark figures rocking behind them.