"Yes, they've gone out making calls, I s'pose," said the maid, delighted to think she had any news to impart.
Joel made a grimace at that, not having at any time a reason for liking calls, and this afternoon with a positive aversion to them. And that brought back Madam Van Ruypen unpleasantly to his mind.
"Has she gone?" he asked in a dreadful whisper; and clutching the maid's arm, "has she, Hannah?"
"Ow!" exclaimed Hannah, edging off quickly. "Yes, I told you she had; she and Mrs. Whitney, too. You don't need to pinch me to death, Master Joel, to find out."
"Oh, I don't mean Mamsie," cried Joel, impatiently. "I mean she,—has she gone?" and pointing off toward the back drawing-room, "Say, Hannah, has she?"
"Whoever do you mean?" demanded Hannah, glancing over her shoulder in the direction indicated.
"Why, she," repeated Joel, stamping impatiently to enforce his words, "Madam Van Ruypen, of course."
"I didn't know she was there," said Hannah, "I'll go and see," and she started for the back drawing-room door.
"Oh, no, no," cried Joel, in a lively terror, and running after her, he laid hold of her apron string; "I don't want to know, Hannah; I don't, really."
"Why, you asked me," snapped Hannah, twitching away the apron string; "there, now, you've mussed it all up," she added in vexation, and now quite determined, if for no other reason than to spite Joel, to explore the back drawing-room, she opened the door and went in.