“No; he’s aboard,” replied the merchant. “But where is she?”
“She left the room as you came in; but why do you not speak out?”
“I was thinking o’ Mrs Bolter, my dear. Isn’t she a bit—you know—jealous, lassie?”
“Don’t ask me such questions, father,” cried Grey, in a low voice. “What do you mean?”
“I’m thinking she’ll be a bit put out if it is as I hear.”
“Why, father?” cried Grey, as her mind filled with strange imaginations. “But tell me quickly,” she whispered, “is Mr Chumbley safe?”
“Yes, yes,” said old Stuart; “he’s safe enough, lassie.”
“And—and—”
“The Resident? Yes; he’s well.”
“But father, you—you have not told me about Captain Hilton.”