"I don't know but I'm meddling in what is none of my business," she began shyly. "At first I thought I wouldn't say anything; then I decided I would do as I'd wish to be done by. I certainly should want to know anything of this kind—though perhaps you know already."
"What is it? Nothing dreadful, I hope."
"Oh, no! Only it shows—unless she has told you—how things are going downstairs."
She hesitated, as if not knowing just how to say what she had come to tell.
"You were home about four o'clock yesterday, weren't you?"
"Yes."
"I met all of you down in the hall, you remember, and I thought it was along there. Have you heard anything about a telephone message that came for you while you were away?"
"No—was there one?"
Miss Leatherland bowed her head and drew her chair nearer.
"This afternoon I went up to call on Mrs. Macgregor, and yesterday, it seems, she had business with Mr. Potter, of the Fair Harbor Paper Company, and was in his office waiting for him to come in. It was about three o'clock, she said. Mr. Potter's office is next to the president's, and the door was just ajar. Mrs. Macgregor has very sharp ears, and she happened to be sitting close to the door, so couldn't help hearing. She says Mr. Randolph called up the Home—she knew the number, she uses it so much—and asked for Miss Sterling. I suppose they told him you were out, for he said he was sorry and inquired if they knew when you were coming home. Evidently whoever was at the 'phone didn't tell, for he said if you should come in by half-past four to ask you to call him up. Probably she offered to deliver his message, for he said no, he'd like to talk with you, and then he rang off. Mrs. Macgregor asked if Mr. Randolph was a relative of yours, and I said I thought not."