"Oh, nothing," he said gently. "Nothing at all." And he resumed his gazing at the front of that house, sixty feet away, and his frowning and his sighing and his heavy thinking.
Patty was silent for some minutes. "Won't you tell me?" she asked then. "I am sure there must be something which troubles you. You know you can count on my sympathy."
Charlie went through the same process as before. It took time. "What did you say?" he said absently, when his look had, at last, come down to Patty. "Sympathy? I'm afraid that won't do me much good." He smiled; a smile that was meant to be pitiful. "But, no. There's nothing the matter. Nothing at all, I assure you. It's all my own fault anyway; my misfortune, rather," he added, so low that Patty barely heard, and she thought that the words were not meant for her ears. That was exactly in accordance with Charlie's intention.
"Charlie!" she cried. "Charlie! You've got to tell me. I heard those last words which you didn't mean me to hear. Now, you've got to tell me." Her voice trembled more than ever.
Charlie could not seem to resist this plea. He looked at her pityingly, and he drew a long breath.
"Well, Pat," he said—Pat was his pet name for her, used only under stress—"well, Pat, if you must have it, then here goes. I'm only out, for this vacation, on bail. I've got to—"
"Wh-what?" asked Patty faintly. Her heart was playing mad pranks and she put up her hand to steady it. At least, that seemed to be her idea. "What was that you said, Charlie? Oh, Charlie, dear!"
"Bail" and "jail" sound very much alike. They conveyed about the same idea to poor Patty. Under certain circumstances, they convey about the same idea to the one most intimately concerned.
Charlie did not appear to be affected. "I've got to show up day after to-morrow or forfeit my bail," he continued unfeelingly. "Well," he said doggedly, "I will. I may have to go to jail, but what of it?"
"Oh, Charlie, dear!" Patty cried, more faintly than before. "Oh, Charlie, dear! Whatever have you done that you should talk of going to—to—Charlie, I feel faint. My salts, dear," she said hurriedly. "They are on the top of my bureau, in that green bottle."