“I don’t care what you are doing,” said the other sharply. “I do not wish to be stared at.” She sat back in her chair, and relapsed into silence. Jeanne withdrew her gaze, but it wandered unconsciously to her uncle’s face. He moved uneasily, but made no comment.
Presently Madame gave utterance to a harsh laugh, and looked at the girl strangely.
“How would you like this for a home?” she asked abruptly.
“What do you mean?” cried Jeanne.
“Just what I say. How would you like to live here?”
“I would not like it,” replied the girl decidedly. “I like my own home best. There is no place like New York.”
“Perhaps you may change your mind,” and Madame gave vent to a peal of unpleasant laughter. “I believe that you will have the opportunity.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jeanne again, but the lady’s only answer was a shrug of her shoulders.
A vague uneasiness filled Jeanne’s mind at her strange demeanor. She kept looking at the girl with a curious, half triumphant expression, while ever and anon she laughed in that strange way that made the girl’s blood chill with apprehension. She was glad when at last Mr. Vance ordered them all to retire.
“There are plenty of rooms and good beds,” he said. “Very likely the people left hurriedly else they would have taken them with them, or perhaps they left them because they will soon return. However it may be, we must get a good night’s rest for to-morrow we have a long day’s ride before us.”