"And in Turkey, too, where you got Stamboul?"
"Yes. He was so wet that I left him outside to day. Did not want to spoil your carpet."
The squire had a way of turning the subject when he seemed upon the point of talking about himself which was very annoying to Mrs. Goddard. But she had not entirely recovered her equanimity and for the moment had lost control of the squire. Besides she had a headache that day.
"Stamboul does not get the benefit of the contrast we were talking about at first," she remarked, in order to say something.
"I could not possibly bring him in," returned the squire looking at her again. "Excuse me, Mrs. Goddard—I don't mean to be inquisitive you know, but—I always want to be of any use."
She looked at him inquiringly.
"I mean, to be frank, I am afraid that something is giving you trouble. I have noticed it for some time. You know, if I can be of any use, if I can help you in any way—you have only to say the word."
Again she looked at him. She did not know why it was so, but the genuinely friendly tone in which he made the offer touched her. She was surprised, however; she could not understand why he should think she was in trouble, and indeed she was in no greater distress than she had suffered during the greater part of the last three years.
"You are very kind, Mr. Juxon. But there is nothing the matter—I have a headache."
"Oh," said the squire, "I beg your pardon." He looked away and seemed embarrassed.