At that moment the young lady herself made her appearance, and politely expressed her regret that she was unable to accompany them.
"Such a stupid thing," said Miss Gastonguay, impatiently. "One would think Chelda was an advertising agency,—but come, we might as well be going."
Chelda stood watching them filing through a gate in the wall that led to a garden across which was a short cut to the wood. No one was sorry that she was not going, and all had been too honest to profess a disappointment that they did not feel. Only Derrice had uttered a surprised and regretful "Oh, we shall miss you, Miss Chelda."
Chelda did not resent their lack of interest. She was utterly indifferent to the good or the bad opinion of any one in Rossignol, and she calmly continued to watch them until a sudden impulse made her saunter after them.
Captain White had placed himself beside her aunt, and as they went through the gate she heard him say, "I know you're often on the lookout for a situation for some man, and if you've got an able-bodied fellow in mind I might get him in as a sealer,—wages three dollars a day."
"This is some city-bred man that is coming to see Chelda," said Miss Gastonguay. "What is his name?" and she looked over her shoulder at her niece.
"Smith or Jones, or something of the sort."
"Robinson—that's it," said Miss Gastonguay. "Some friend of Chelda wrote her about him. Miss Rose, wasn't it?" and she turned again.
"Yes," replied Chelda, pleasantly; "she wrote me some long story about this man. I think she said he had been a butler in their family. I really forget what it was, for I lost the letter. If she wishes employment for him, I wonder she did not apply to you, aunt."
"And his name is Robinson?" asked Captain White, carelessly.