"No. She has been up some time. The door of her room was open when I came down."
"Then she is probably in the garden. I'll ask Olive to call her."
"Why not call her yourself? I have a feeling—"
The professor rose from his untasted coffee. When Aunt Caroline "had a feeling" it was useless to argue.
"Are you sleeping badly again, Benis?" asked Aunt Caroline. "Your eyes look like burnt holes in a blanket."
"Nothing to bother about, Aunt." He stepped out quickly into the sunny garden. But Desire was not among the flowers, neither was she on the lawn nor in the shrubbery. A few moments' search proved that she was not out of doors at all. Benis returned to his coffee. He found it quite cold and no waiting Aunt Caroline to pour him another cup. "I wonder," he pondered idly, "why, when one really wants coffee, it is always cold."
Then he forgot about coffee suddenly and completely, for Aunt Caroline came in with the news that Desire was gone.
"Gone where?" asked Spence stupidly.
"That," said Aunt Caroline, "she leaves you to inform me."
With the feeling of being someone else and acting under compulsion he took the few written lines which she held out to him. "Dear Aunt Caroline," he read, "Benis will tell you why I am going. But I cannot go without thanking you. I'll never forget how good you have been—Desire."