Presently Wicklow entered. He had a somewhat worn and anxious look, but he was composed and easy, and if he suspected anything it did not appear in his face or manner. I allowed him to stand there a moment or two, then I said pleasantly,—
“My boy, why do you go to that old stable so much?”
He answered, with simple demeanor and without embarrassment,—
“Well, I hardly know, sir; there isn’t any particular reason, except that I like to be alone, and I amuse myself there.”
“You amuse yourself there, do you?”
“Yes, sir,” he replied, as innocently and simply as before.
“Is that all you do there?”
“Yes, sir,” he said, looking up with childlike wonderment in his big soft eyes.
“You are sure?”
“Yes, sir, sure.”