Half way down the hall, Leslie ran into Roy Pallister. His face was haggard and unduly white. She started back as she saw him.
"Why, Roy!" she cried, unconsciously calling him by his first name; "what has happened?"
The boy flushed as his name fell from her lips.
"Miss Leslie," he began stumblingly, seemingly embarrassed by the searching gaze she rested on him, "nothing—that is, nothing that's imminent. Your——"
"My father!" she queried. "Has anything——"
"They," pointing to the floor above, "seem to treat it lightly. I'm a beast for frightening you; but I think your father feels—fears——"
"Mr. Pallister, what are you keeping from me? What is the matter?"
The gentle little fellow steadied himself for a moment against the wall, and then, as she made a movement to go, he drew her back.
"Miss Leslie, I've been wanting to tell you something—I've been waiting for the chance. If ever in the future you need help—help of any kind, you'll let me know," he said with lips that trembled. "I want to be sure that you understand just what I mean. I've never done anything for you, Miss Leslie, and——"
"Why, yes you have; indeed you have...." she assured him, and her look was one of genuine affection.