"Why, Helen, what world of melancholy does that sigh proclaim?"
"Oh, I don't know," evasively. "I am low-spirited this morning, somehow or other."
"Can't you tell me the reason, dear?"
Helen did not answer, and for a moment Eleanor watched her closely. Something in the delicate face and in the eyes, in which, of late, a shadow always lurked, touched her.
"I would love your confidence, Helen," she said at last; "but unless you can give it to me freely, I would not wish to ask it of you."
Helen stirred uneasily.
"Ah, well, for a moment I thought to speak to you of something troublesome, but be glad, dear, that I have changed my mind. I am going to speak of something pleasant instead. Do you remember my friend Miss Stuart? She has visited me several times, but always in the winter."
"Oh, yes! I remember Jean's writing me about her."
Helen turned a questioning glance on Eleanor, but the girl's expression was perfectly non-committal.
"Yes? Well, she is coming here to visit me later. The time is not set as yet, but I hope it will be early next month."