"What sort of things?" she asked, with wide eyes.
"If you see any one hanging about the house, or talking to Mrs. Bussey,--"
"Goodness! She talks to everybody!"
"Go on playing," said Burton softly. As she took up the thread of the melody with obedient fingers, though wondering eyes, he sauntered across the room and then suddenly turned into the hall as he passed the open doorway.
"Oh, Mrs. Bussey! Is that you?" he asked. "Did you want something?"
There was a sound of pattering feet, as the housekeeper hurried nervously away.
"She lacks invention," said Burton, as he came back to the piano. "It would have been so easy for her to pretend that she came to see if you wanted another lamp, or something of that sort."
"She is stupid past belief," said Leslie, in manifest annoyance.
"Does her habit of eavesdropping suggest nothing to you but idle curiosity?" Burton could not refrain from asking.
She looked startled. "No. You don't mean--"