Up at French Cross Miss Gastonguay was playing dominoes with Aurelia Sinclair, who could never be induced to engage in a game of cards.
Chelda sat at a little distance, her hands folded in her lap, a far-away look in her eyes.
Presently Miss Gastonguay good-humouredly addressed her. "You appear so still, child, that I guess you must be restless. Did you expect any one this evening?"
"No, aunt."
"I thought Mr. Huntington said he would be up," observed Aurelia, timidly.
One of Chelda's peculiarities was a most Indian-like unsmilingness. However, at this remark, she favoured her guest with her nearest approach to an amused contraction of her features.
"What do you want, Prosperity?" asked Miss Gastonguay, pointing a double-six domino at him as he appeared in the doorway.
"Miss Chelda, ma'am. The old black woman from the parsonage would like to see her."
Chelda rose, and walked carelessly to a small reception-room off the hall. She only stayed a short time, and, on coming back, twirled a small note in her fingers, and sank into her former seat.
"There is no one ill at the parsonage, is there?" asked Miss Gastonguay.