“The days of chivalry are over,” he sighed. “If a fellow tries to protect a maiden in distress, they think he wants to marry her.”
“Don’t you?” asked Patsy, in a sympathetic tone.
“Why, I hadn’t thought of it before; but it wouldn’t be a half-bad idea,” he confessed. “Ranch life is a bit lonely without women around to bother one.”
“You are all talking foolishly,” observed Beth, who was not romantic. “Mildred might object to washing Mr. Runyon’s dishes.”
“Why, yes; I believe she would,” said Mr. Runyon. “I’m sure she disapproves of my character; that’s why I respect her judgment, so highly. She didn’t seem at all interested in those various mortgages, when I mentioned them; and what else have I to offer a wife?”
Even the cosy library could not hold them very late, for none had been fully restored by the sleep obtained during the day. Bed seemed more alluring than a grate fire and when the Hahns went home the party broke up, to meet again at an eight o’clock breakfast.
As soon as the meal was over Arthur Weldon announced that the first business of the day would be an examination of the secret rooms in the wall of the old East Wing.
“And this must be a thorough and final inspection of the place,” he added. “We must satisfy ourselves and Mildred Travers, without the shadow of a doubt, that we have inventoried every blessed thing in those rooms—even to the rats and beetles.”
“That’s right,” approved Mr. Merrick. “Let us do the job once and for all. We’ve plenty of time at our disposal and there are enough of us with sharp eyes to ferret out every mystery of the place. In Mildred’s interest we must be thorough.”
In the court they found old Miguel, sitting motionless and patient. He was carefully dressed in his best clothes and wore a red necktie, “just as if,” said Patsy, “he was going to a party instead of delving in dusty places.”