“I shan't tell you anything. You don't deserve to be told. I'm out of patience with you, altogether. You deserve to be miserable. You'll spoil—But there! good-night.”
“Gertie! Gertie! hold on. Don't—”
Serena's voice sounded at the head of the stairs.
“Gertie!” she called. “Who is it you're talking with? Is your father there? Why doesn't he come to bed?”
“He's coming, Mother, right away. So am I. Good-night, Daddy.”
The next forenoon, as Azuba was blacking the stove, Gertrude entered the kitchen.
“Good-morning, Azuba,” she said. “Are you alone?”
“Yes, yes, I'm alone.”
“Where is Hapgood?”
“Land knows! Upstairs, lookin' out for that Hungerford man's clothes, I guess likely. He waits on that young critter as if he was the Prince of Wales. Well, you went Chapterin' and advancin' last night, I understand. What did you think of it?”