Her eyes sought those of the seamstress once more in puzzled questioning, but the woman, after a vehement nod, evaded her glance, and her quivering fingers plucked at the pins until the strange message was obliterated.
"Have you finished?" Mrs. Atterbury's calm tones cut the pregnant silence.
"Yes, ma'am. I will come tomorrow for the lining fitting." The seamstress barely breathed the words, as she scrambled to her feet, but there seemed a shade of significance as she added: "I-I hope the young lady will be satisfied."
"I shall be," Mrs. Atterbury responded with good-humored but unmistakable emphasis. A faint flush mounted in Miss Pope's wan cheeks and she did not glance again toward Betty, even as she bowed herself out.
"My dear, I shall not need you again this afternoon. Would you care to go out for a little while?"
Betty's eyes eagerly turned to the window were sufficient answer.
"You will find several paths leading around the grounds if you don't mind the snow, but do not go beyond the gate." Mrs. Atterbury smiled, but she watched the girl's face keenly. "You look pale, and the fresh air will do you good. We must not keep you cooped up in the house too much, but I do not want you to go about the city aimlessly until you learn your way."
"I will not leave the grounds," promised Betty.
"One thing more," Mrs. Atterbury paused at the door. "Don't go near the garage, for Demon may be unleashed. He is the watch dog and underfed to keep him savage. Be sure you come in at dusk."
When Betty, as warmly clad as her meagre wardrobe would allow, slipped out at the side door, the pale wintry sun was already sinking in the West and the still air nipped her sharply, bringing a tingling glow to her cheeks. She set out jauntily down the first path which led among the cedars, her footsteps ringing on the hard packed snow and the frosty vapor of her breath floating like a veil before her.