"That's just the trouble," Sally replied, frowning. "I don't know, although I can find out. I didn't think of that. It's a place where college boys go, sometimes," she added, flushing slowly.
"In Boston, eh?" Mr. Gilfeather's brow cleared and his eyes opened again. The color in Sally's face had not escaped him. "It's my advice, Miss Ladue, that you give it up. I don't know anything about them Boston places—I would say those places—or I'd offer to go for you. Perhaps I can guess—"
"It's my brother," said Sally simply.
Mr. Gilfeather nodded. "I'd heard it or I shouldn't have spoken of it," he said gently. "I'm very sorry, Miss Ladue. Nobody else shall hear of it from me."
"I'm afraid that will make very little difference," she remarked, "but I thank you."
Mr. Gilfeather was silent for some moments while Sally sipped her tea.
"Haven't you got any gentleman friend," he asked at last, "who would do your errand for you?"
"I don't know who would be the most likely to—to know the way about," she returned. "I can't very well ask for bids." She smiled quickly. "If I knew the best person to ask I would ask him."
"That you would," Mr. Gilfeather murmured admiringly. "You ain't afraid. Do you want me to suggest?" he asked.
"I hoped you would be willing to."