"You are tired,—I must not keep you, but just let me ask you two or three questions. What is the matter with Mr. Huntington?"
"Well, I think he has some mental worry."
"He acted so strangely to-day. I came suddenly upon him and Miss Chelda, and he seemed to be in a state of perfect bliss,—almost silly in fact. All through dinner—ah, what a nice dinner we had, Justin!—he was the same way. Then afterward we went to the music-room to hear Miss Chelda play. Her execution is something wonderful, but I suppose you know all about it, also that she cannot sing. Miss Gastonguay wanted me to try. I told her I had only a little faint squeak of a voice, but she insisted. I sang one song after another, and when I finished 'The Land o' the Leal' Mr. Huntington looked so strangely, and finally stepped out of the room and left the house. Miss Chelda didn't say anything, but I felt that she didn't like it. Was it not queer of him not to take leave?"
"Very."
"I would like to know what is wrong with him, but I see you won't tell me. Do you like Miss Chelda?"
"I don't know much about her, except that she was fond of making faces at me when she strutted about the streets here, a little overdressed girl. My father used to be intimate with the Gastonguays before his marriage; but they have never liked my mother nor me, and I was surprised to hear that Miss Gastonguay had called to-day. One of her whims must have taken possession of her."
"Do you mean to say that Miss Chelda is as old as you are?"
"Almost."
"Why, she acts as if she were as young as I am. I dare say she takes something off her age. Girls often do."
"Would you?" he asked.