“I believe you ‘could see’ in the dark or with your eyes shut or even if you had no eyes,” teased Emma.
“Then there is something bothering her,” said Elfreda triumphantly. “I knew it.”
“Yes, there is. I wish I might tell you,” returned Emma slowly, “but I am in Grace’s confidence. It wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to ask her, though. If she would tell you, you might be able to suggest something helpful. I’ll just say this much. It’s very serious.”
“All right, I’ll ask her. If she tells me, I’ll talk things over with you afterward. If she doesn’t, then forget that I asked you about it.”
It was not until late that afternoon that she found her opportunity to question Grace. Arline had left her to make a call upon Myra Stone, now a senior, and Elfreda and Grace sat side by side on Grace’s favorite bench that stood under the giant elm at one end of the campus.
“Grace,” Elfreda’s matter-of-fact tones broke a brief silence that had fallen upon the two young women. “What has happened to hurt you?”
Grace started slightly. Her color receded, leaving her very pale. Then she said simply, “I suppose you ‘could see,’ Elfreda.”
“Yes; I’ve been ‘seeing’ ever since I came. I wish you would tell me about it. Perhaps I can help you.”
Grace shook her head. “No one can help me. I’ll just say this. Don’t be surprised at anything you may hear a little later. But please remember one thing, Elfreda. Whatever I have done since I became the manager of Harlowe House I have done always with the highest interests of my girls at heart.”
“I guess we all know that,” retorted Elfreda. “I’ll remember what you say, though. I’m sorry I can’t help you. You didn’t mind my asking, did you?”