"O yes; no difficulty about that. It's all right."
"How can I do with the things you have stored for me?" Eleanor said to
Mr. Esthwaite. "Can the schooner take them too?"
"What things?"
"Excuse me—perhaps I misunderstood you. I thought you said you had half your warehouse, one loft of it, taken up with things for me?"
"Those things are gone, long ago," said Mr. Esthwaite, in a dogged kind of mood which did not approve of the proposed journey or conveyance.
"Gone?"
"Yes. According to order. Mrs. Caxton wrote, Forward as soon as possible; so I did."
Again Eleanor's brow and cheeks and her very throat were covered with a rush of crimson; but when Mr. Amos took her hand on going away its touch made him ask involuntarily if she were well?
"Perfectly well," Eleanor answered, with something in her manner that reminded Mr. Amos, though he could not tell why, of the charge Mr. Esthwaite had brought. Another look into Eleanor's eyes quieted the thought.
"Your hand is very cold!" he said.