“Somebody means to,” she replied. “I was to have gone to sit to Mr. Crowdie this morning, but he sent me word to come to-morrow instead. I suppose he had forgotten another engagement.”
“Crowdie is ill,” said Miner. “Bright told me so this morning—some queer attack that nobody could understand.”
“Something serious?” asked Katharine, quickly.
“Oh, no—I suppose not. Let’s go and see. He lives close by—at least, not far, you know, over in Lafayette Place. It won’t take five minutes to go across. Would you like to go?”
“Yes,” answered the young girl. “I could ask if he will be able to begin the picture to-morrow.”
They turned to the right at the next crossing and reached Broadway a few moments later. There was the usual crowd of traffic in the great thoroughfare, and they had to wait a moment at the crossing before attempting it. Miner thought of what he had seen on the previous afternoon.
“Did you hear of Jack Ralston’s accident yesterday?” he asked.
Katharine started violently and turned pale. She had not realized how the long hours and the final scene with her mother had unstrung her nerves. But Miner was watching the cars and carts for an opening, and did not see her.
“Yesterday?” she repeated, a moment later. “No—he came to see us and stayed almost till dinner time. What was it? When did it happen? Was he hurt?”
“Oh—you saw him afterwards, then?” Miner looked up into her face—she was taller than he—with a curious expression—recollecting Ralston’s condition when he had last seen him.