"Yes. If I can help you——" Varick had begun, when the little man gave vent to a sudden exclamation.
"I'm in no trouble! Who said I was?" he cried; and Varick stared, gazing at him with renewed astonishment. If it wasn't for his own sake that Mr. Mapleson had begged him to stay in, for whose, then, was it? Varick at this point started with a sudden thought.
"Look here," he said sharply; "it isn't Bab, is it?"
The effect was immediate. Again Mr. Mapleson peered up at Varick, his face transfigured; and again, his manner impulsive, he touched the young man on the arm.
"She is very lovely, isn't she?" he said; "and she is very good and sweet; don't you think she is?"
There was no doubt of it, but still Varick did not reply. A vague understanding had begun to creep into his mind, and questioningly he gazed down into the little man's upturned face.
"Tell me," said Mr. Mapleson—and as he heard him Varick's eyes grew wide—"tell me," he faltered, "you do think her lovely? You do think her sweet and lovely, don't you?"
Varick nodded slowly.
"Why, yes," he said, "she is very lovely." And at that Mr. Mapleson gave vent to an eager exclamation.