Without pause, he walked boldly in, to find all apparently as when he had seen the place last—birds, animals, all were there; but there was no dove-scene, and in place of the soft lineaments of Patty he encountered the swarthy face and harsh look of Janet, who was working behind the counter, her wiry little fingers rapidly continuing the work, although her eyes were fixed eagerly upon the new-comer.
It seemed to Harry that the girl gazed angrily at him from beneath her dark brows, and set her teeth firmly together as she unflinchingly met her visitor’s gaze.
A dull heavy feeling of misery now seemed to press harder than ever upon the young man’s heart, as his fears in one respect seemed to meet with confirmation. The next moment, sternly and angrily, he approached Janet, holding her as it were with his eye, and, leaning over the counter, he said in a low voice—
“I want his address!”
Janet did not speak, but stared at him wonderingly for a few moments, and then, in a puzzled way, repeated his words—
“You want his address—you want his address!”
“Yes,” said Harry, hastily, “I want his address;” and as he looked he could see that, in spite of the bold way in which his eye was met, Janet was trembling.
Harry waited for an answer, but the only words that came were—“You want his address!”
“Yes!” exclaimed Harry, sternly. “Where is he—where has he gone? You need not be afraid.”
“Afraid!—afraid of what?” said Janet, harshly.