"What do you mean?"
"Oh, nothing! I'm going to measure it. Wouldn't you like to help me?"
"With all my heart. Tell me what to do."
"Presently. Wait till I've screwed things together; then I'll tell you what to do. Oh! By the way, I must tell you an amusing episode that happened at the railroad station while I was waiting for my luggage. There was a young man sending off a message at the little telegraph station, and I overheard the message and the comments of the operator."
Alma didn't appear to enjoy this incident.
"Not listening intentionally, you know. It was the telegraph I heard, not the people."
Alma felt better.
"It was all by mere sounds, and it ran this way: 'The old fool is here again.' That's what she said—the operator, I mean. 'To Isaac Abrams, 1,607 Barclay street, New York. I have secured the will. Foreclose the mortgage and realize at once. Get two state rooms for the 25th.—L. B.' That was the message, and it was so very strange I wrote it out in my—— Oh! Beg pardon, Miss Denny. Are you ill?"
Alma's face had assumed a sudden pallor, and she seemed frightened and ill at ease.
"'Tis nothing—really nothing! I shall be better presently."