Mrs. Ladue looked at her daughter sitting there so apathetically. She looked long and her eyes grew more anxious than ever. Sally did not seem to be aware of the scrutiny.
"Sally," she began hesitatingly.
Sally turned her head. "Well?"
"I have heard some rumors, Sally," Mrs. Ladue went on, hesitating more than ever, "about—about Everett. I didn't believe there was any truth in them and I have said so. I was right, wasn't I? There isn't anything, is there?"
"What sort of thing?" Sally did not seem to care. "What were the rumors, mother?"
"Why," said her mother, with a little laugh of embarrassment, "they were most absurd; that Everett was paying you marked attention and that you were encouraging him."
"No, that is not so. I have not encouraged him."
Her answer seemed to excite Mrs. Ladue. "Well, is it true that he is—that he has been paying you attention for a long time?"
"I have seen him more or less, but it is nothing that I have been trying to conceal from you. What does it matter?"
"It matters very much, dear; oh, very much." Mrs. Ladue was silent for a moment. "Then I gather," she resumed in a low voice, "that you have not discouraged his attentions?"