“Oh, most certainly. I shall speak to Aunt Elfrida. But I wish to see Odalite first of all. I have not seen her since I saw her at the altar of All Faith Church on that broken wedding day. Why does she seclude herself so strictly? She is not indisposed. Aunt Elfrida told me she was better and brighter than she had been for many weeks. Why, then, does she keep her room?” inquired Le.
“I think, my dear lad, that she is indisposed, in one sense, at least—very much indisposed to meet a mixed company. She joined us yesterday both at dinner and at tea.”
“But I was not here!” exclaimed Le.
“No, you were not here, or you would have seen her. To-day she has kept her room to avoid our visitors. It is a very natural reserve, under the circumstances, as you must admit, Le.”
“Yes; but now they have all gone. Will she be in the parlor this evening, do you suppose?”
“No, my lad. I asked that question of her mother, who told me that Odalite was busily engaged and much interested in making things for the Sunday-school Christmas tree, and so would not come down this evening. But, Le, you may see her to-morrow morning. You will stay all night here, of course,” said Mr. Force.
“I believe they will expect me home at Greenbushes to-night; but, after all, they are too much accustomed to my eccentric comings and goings to be the least uneasy at my absence; so I think I will please myself and stay, thank you, Uncle Abel,” replied the youth.
“That is settled, then,” said Mr. Force, as he arose to lead the way back to the drawing room.