"Mrs. Bussey says that the milkman says that the Hadleys' housemaid says that Minnie was up in her room crying all day yesterday," said Leslie mischievously.
"For goodness' sake, don't let Henry hear that," exclaimed Burton. But the name reminded him of Mrs. Bussey's specialty, and he glanced rather anxiously at the open drawing-room windows under which they had been sitting. Was it his fancy, or did the curtain stir with something more palpable than the wind? What a situation for this girl to live in! It was intolerable.
He was looking at her so intently that she looked up as though he had spoken.
"What is it?" she asked swiftly. "You are hiding something from me!"
"I am trying to," he said, recovering himself. "I think my only chance of succeeding is in keeping away from you. Where is your father?"
"In the surgery, I think."
"I'm going in to speak to him." He left her a little abruptly and went to the front door where Mrs. Bussey admitted him with her old air of curiosity struggling with timid resentment. Burton returned her look with keen interest. Had she been listening at the window?
"How do you do, Mrs. Bussey? And how's Ben? I'm coming up to see him in a minute. I have a little present from an old Indian who used to know him."
Mrs. Bussey relaxed into a smile, and hurried away, and Burton went on to the surgery to find the doctor.
"I don't dare say that my soul is my own in this house without first making sure that Mrs. Bussey won't overhear me and betray the damaging secret to my dearest enemy," he said, as he shook hands. "She is always at hand when I am indiscreet. I wanted to tell you privately and with the utmost secrecy that Henry is coming home this morning,--very soon. It is a part of a little scheme I am working out. He is really to be kept under the strictest surveillance. I wanted to explain this so that you would understand the presence of the stranger who will accompany him more or less inconspicuously, and not make any remarks in regard to him,--say in the hearing of Mrs. Bussey!"