Mr. Ingram looked at the girl a little keenly; then he took a chair and seated himself comfortably.
"What is it, Miss Mollie?" he said, gently. "You have something on your mind. Oh, you cannot deceive me," as Mollie blushed and shook her head. "I can read you like a book, and for some reason poor Monsieur Blackie is in disgrace."
"Oh, no, no!" protested Mollie, quite shocked at this. "You could not think me so ungrateful!"
"There can be no question of gratitude between you and me," returned the young man, gravely; and he looked a little pained. Then, as Mollie's sweet, wistful face seemed to plead forgiveness, he recovered himself with an effort.
"I am only troubled because I am afraid of hurting you," she went on; "and I am sorry, too, because I do so enjoy your visits. We know so few people, Mr. Ingram; but father said——" But here Mollie utterly broke down. And why ever was Mr. Ingram looking at her in that way? Was he angry or unhappy?
"You do not surely mean, Miss Mollie, that your father has forbidden my visits?" And now it was Mr. Ingram's turn to look pale.
"Oh, no, no!" gasped Mollie, "how could you think of anything so dreadful? Only father would like to see you sometimes and——" Then the stern look of gravity was no longer on Ingram's face.
"My dear Miss Mollie," he said, kindly, "please do not distress yourself so. Let me finish that sentence for you. Your father does not in the least object to my visits, but he would like me to pay them when he is at home, and he wishes you to tell me this."
"Oh, yes. Thank you; but how could you guess so cleverly?" and Mollie looked as though a world of care had rolled off her. But only an inscrutable smile answered her.
"Sir Oracle has spoken," he said, trying to resume his old manner. "Now, Miss Mollie, I may be an Idealist, but I can be practical, too. Will you kindly tell me on which afternoon I am likely to find your father."