“It’s pretty warm to-day,” observed the lawyer’s clerk.
“But Gran’pa Eliot is paralyzed, and his blood doesn’t circulate freely. He is always well wrapped up, whatever the weather.”
Toby whistled softly and looked down at the ground, where he was digging up the earth with the toe of his shoe.
“It must be dinner time,” said Phœbe, suddenly remembering the fact. “Phil will be coming home and I must go in.”
“Will you be very busy this afternoon, Miss Daring?”
“I think not. Why?”
“Can you come here for a half hour or so?”
“Yes, Toby, if I can be of any service.”
“I think you can. This is a queer affair, isn’t it?”
“It’s very queer, Toby.”