Anna Gessner herself, still hesitating upon the threshold suddenly remembered another interest and referred to it with no less ardor.
"Oh, that reminds me, Fellows. Has my father spoken again of that dreadful silly business?"
"Concerning the young gentleman, miss?"
She heard him with unutterable contempt.
"The beggar-boy that he wishes to bring to this house. Did he speak of him to-night?"
Fellows came a step nearer and, hushing his voice, he said, with a servant's love of a dramatic reply:
"Mr. Kennedy is in the garden now, miss—indeed, I think he's sitting near the vestibule."
She looked at him astonished. Ugly passions of disappointment and thwarted desire betrayed themselves in the swift turn and the angry pursing of her lips. Of her father's intentions in bringing this beggar-boy to the house, she knew nothing at all. It seemed to her one of those mad acts for which no sane apology could be offered.
"He is here now, Fellows! Who brought him then?"
"Mr. Geary—at six o'clock."