"Mrs. Burke is very strange," said Estelle; "I can't seem to get on with her. She seems very lonely and restless. Her husband is away a great deal, but I can't get her to talk, when I call, and she never returns my call."
"She never seemed that way to me," Rivers said, having nothing better in mind at the moment.
"I think she's homesick. I wish I knew how to help her, but I don't."
Rivers walked away with two thoughts in his mind. One was the girl's sentence about things that were wrong and things which people thought were wrong, and the other was the question about Blanche—was she homesick? That puzzled him. Had he only seen her in her joyous moods? It was not pleasant to think of her growing sad—perhaps on his account.
Burke sat on a bench outside the door, smoking silently in the dusk. Blanche was stirring about inside.
"Hello, Rivers!" Burke called. "Take a seat." He pointed at a vinegar-keg.
Blanche hurried to meet her visitor, a beautiful smile on her face. "Come inside," she said. "I've got some work to do, and I want to hear you men talk." They obediently complied, and she lighted a lamp. "I like to see you when you talk," she added, flashing a smile at Rivers.
He saw the change in her for the first time. She certainly was paler, her face less boyish, and a deeper shadow hovered about her eyes.
"I came over to see if you wouldn't come down and help us get up a jollification at the store on the Fourth," he said.
"Why, of course. What shall I do?"