"I can't say I do. Evidently," said Mr. Queed, "it is intended as a gift."
"Then—perhaps you have a good friend here after all? Some one who has guessed—"
"I think I told you that I have but two friends, and I know for a certainty that they are both in New York. Besides, neither of them would give me twenty dollars."
"But—but—but," said the girl, laughing through her utter bewilderment—"aren't you interested to know who did give it to you? Aren't you curious? I assure you that in this city it's not a bit usual to get money through the mails from anonymous admirers—"
"Nor did I say that this was a usual case. I told you that I didn't know who sent me this."
"Exactly—"
"But I have an idea. I think my father sent it."
"Oh! Your father ..."
So he had a father, an eccentric but well-to-do father, who, though not a friend, yet sent in twenty dollars now and then to relieve his son's necessities. Sharlee felt her heart rising.
"Don't think me merely prying. You see I am naturally interested in the question of whether you—will find yourself able to stay on here—"