Varick said he was. Mr. Mapleson at the reply seemed to fuss and flutter even more. Then, swiftly putting out his hand, he touched Varick on the arm.
"Could you wait?" he appealed. "It is a favor—a great favor!"
Varick regarded him with surprise. The little man was quivering. For the moment a fit of shyness more than usually awkward seemed painfully to convulse him. His eyes leaped about him everywhere. Nor was his speech less agitated.
"If you could wait," he faltered, "I have something to tell you."
Then his emotion, whatever the cause of it, got the better of him. "I beg of you do not go yet!" he piped; and he peered up at Varick, his eyes gleaming, his mouth working nervously.
A moment passed while Varick, his wonder growing, gazed down at the white face turned up to his. Then he laid his hand quietly on Mr. Mapleson's shoulder.
"Why, what's wrong, Mr. Mapleson?" he asked. "You're not in any trouble, are you?"
Mr. Mapleson at the question looked blank.
"In trouble? I?"