“What do you want?” asked Victoria, appearing on the other side of the wire screen at the window, with a saucer in her hand which she was vigorously wiping with a crash towel. “I’m awfully busy, Peter. It is ironing day, you know, and Honor and Katherine are making the beds, so I have to do the breakfast things alone. Sophy is helping me, but—you know what that means!”
“I want to speak to you,” said Peter, raising himself on one arm, and lowering his voice to a mysterious whisper. “It’s really very important, Vic. About last night, you know. Can’t you come out here a minute? Is any one else in there?”
“Only Sophy.”
“Not Aunt Sophia?”
“No; she is upstairs.”
“Oh, then do come out, quick! It’s a good chance. And shut that window. I don’t want any one inside to hear me.”
Victoria saw that he had really something of importance to communicate, so, leaving several articles upon the tray for Sophy to wipe during her absence, and giving her strict injunctions to be careful, she closed the dining-room window, and went around through the door to Peter on the piazza.
“Have you seen Carney this morning?” he asked eagerly.
Victoria started. The mention of Carney’s name fitted so exactly with her own thoughts.
“No,” she replied.