"Then," said I, "I might as well let the negro man go his way. I have
not paid him his passage-money to the city. I knew he would wait until
he got it, and it might be desirable to take him into custody."
"Oh no," she said. "Mrs. Chester spoke about that. She doesn't want
the man troubled in any way. He knew nothing of the message he
carried. Now I am going to tell father about it--she asked me to do
it."
That evening was a merry one. We had charades, and a good many other
things were going on. Miss Willoughby was an admirable actress, and
Miss Edith was not bad, although she could never get rid of her
personality. I was in a singular state of mind. I felt as if I had
been relieved from a weight. My spirits were actually buoyant.
"You should not be so unreasonably gay," said Miss Edith to me. "That
may be your way when you get better acquainted with people, but I am
afraid some of the family will think that you are in such good spirits
because Mrs. Chester now knows that she is a widow."
"Oh, there is no danger of their thinking anything of that sort," I
said. "Don't you suppose they will attribute my good spirits to the
fact that the man who took my bicycle to Waterton brought back my big
valise, so that I am enabled to look like a gentleman in the parlor?
And then, as he also brought word that my bicycle will be all ready
for me to-morrow, don't you think it is to be expected of me that I
should try to make myself as agreeable as possible on this my last
evening with all you good friends?"
She shook her head. "Those excuses will not pass. You are abnormally
cheerful. My study of you is extremely interesting, but not altogether
satisfactory."