“Yes—she has a bad headache.”
“Good deal of nausea, too? Sight of food distasteful?”
“Oh, yes, she doesn't want anything to eat.
“Can't keep anything on her stomach? Lost interest in living—no enthusiasm for anything? Is that the form it takes?”
“Why, yes—yes—”
“Curious thing. Seems to prevail in this neighborhood. Young Lindquist, back up the road, has the same trouble.”
Van Deelen's stolid face wore a puzzled expression. He seemed not to know how far to resent this inquisition. “Say,” he asked, “what do you want?”
“I want to know if you always receive folks with a shot-gun?”
“Why—”
“Bad characters in the neighborhood, maybe. Have they been giving you trouble to-night?”