“Is that you, Stella?” he said, in his high, nervous voice, and, although she could not see them in the shadow of the curtain, she knew that his quick eyes were watching her face eagerly.
“Yes, father, I have brought you your tea. Are you ready for it?”
“Thank you, my dear. Have you been at that place—what do you call it?—the Dead Church, all day?”
“Yes, and the experiments went beautifully.”
“Did they, did they indeed?” commented her father in an uninterested voice. The fate of the experiments did not move him. “Isn’t it very lonely up there in that old church?”
“I prefer to be alone—generally.”
“I know, I know. Forgive me; but you are a very odd woman, my dear.”
“Perhaps, father; but not more so than those before me, am I? Most of them were a little different from other people, I have been told.”
“Quite right, Stella; they were all odd women, but I think that you are quite the oddest of the family.” Then, as though the subject were disagreeable to him, he added suddenly: “Mr. Layard came to see me to-day.”
“So he told me,” answered Stella.