Westy was touched and longed to ask her why they didn’t leave their isolated home, but he just couldn’t trespass upon her private affairs.
“You must forgive me, though, talking about myself,” she continued, “but grandmother and I feel freer to talk with you all. We have never spoken so to any one before. Most people aren’t interested in the petty troubles of a mountaineer. You can’t blame them, really!”
“Not at all! Why shouldn’t we be interested in other people’s troubles? A scout should be—particularly!”
“Isn’t that fine! Tell me more about them, Westy?”
Westy thought that herein was his chance to be real helpful in their poverty and was thinking how to go about the delicate topic when Mrs. Redmond came out into the garden and smilingly nodded to him.
“Where’s Rip this morning?” she asked.
Westy looked at Lola and her face was a blank as far as he could see. Then she turned to him in an apologetic manner.
“I never asked, did I? I really meant to ask you where he was when you came along. He isn’t ill, is he?”
Her expression was so manifestly one of concern that Westy lost his poise for a moment as the memory of Rip’s threat flitted through his mind.
“Why, hasn’t he been here at all this morning?” He couldn’t seem to make himself believe it.