Rhody, as she looked around in the vain effort to get a clew to the secret, wondered why she always felt so comfortable in this house. She sighed as she seated herself on the floor at the foot of the lounge on which Paul lay. This was her privilege. If Miss Fanny could sit at his head, Rhody could sit at his feet.
"You wanted to speak to Paul," suggested Miss Fanny.
"Yes'm; he lef' de house in a huff, an' I wanter know ef he gwine back—kaze ef he ain't, I'm gwineter move way fum dar. He ain't take time fer ter git his supper."
"Why, Paul!" exclaimed Miss Fanny.
"I couldn't eat a mouthful to save my life," said Paul.
"Whar Miss Margaret?" Rhody inquired; and she seemed pleased to hear that the young lady was spending the night with Nan Dorrington. "Honey," she said to Paul, "how come yo' pa went ter de Gaither Place ter-night? What business he got dar?"
This was news to Paul, and he could make no reply to Rhody's question. He reflected over the matter a little while. "Was he really there?" he asked finally.
"I hear 'im talkin' in de parlour, an' Miss Genia say it's him."
"What were you doing there?" inquired Miss Fanny, pushing her jaunty grey curls behind her ears.
"A coloured 'oman recommen' me ter go dar ef I wan' ter fin' dat chile."