r. Patten said, "you can't go very far
the way you are. Now be a good fellow, and let's get this thing done.
It's for your good as well as mine. You'll make a Fortune out of it."
Then he went into his own door, and soon came out, looking like a
gentleman, unless one knew, as I did, that he was a Whited Sepulcher.
How long I sat there, paralized with emotion, I do not know. Hannah
came out and roused me from my Trance of grief. She is a kindly soul,
although to afraid of mother to be helpful.
"Come in like a good girl, Miss Bab," she said. "There's that fruit
salad that cook prides herself on, and I'll ask her to brown a bit of
sweetbread for you."
"Hannah," I said in a low voice, "there is a Crime being committed in
this neighborhood, and you talk to me of food."
"Good gracious, Miss Bab!"
"I cannot tell you any more than that, Hannah," I said gently, "because
it is only being done now, and I cannot make up my Mind about it. But of
course I do not want any food."
As I say, I was perfectly gentle with her, and I do not understand why
she burst into tears and went away.
I sat and thought it all over. I could not leave, under the
circumstances. But yet, what was I to do? It was hardly a Police matter,
being between friends, as one may say, and yet I simply could not bare
to leave my Ideal there in that damp bath-house without either food or,
as one may say, raiment.
About the middle of the afternoon it occurred to me to try to find a key
for the lock of the bath-house. I therfore left my Studio and proceded
to the house. I passed close by the fatal building, but there was no
sound from it.
I found a number of trunk-keys in a drawer in the library, and was about
to escape with them, when father came in. He gave me a long look, and
said:
"Bee still buzzing?"
I had hoped for some understanding from him, but my Spirits fell at this
speach.
"I am still working, father," I said, in a firm if nervous tone. "I am
not doing as good work as I would if things were diferent, but--I am at
least content, if not happy."
He stared at me, and then came over to me.
"Put out your tongue," he said.
Even against this crowning infamey I was silent.
"That's all right," he said. "Now see here, Chicken, get into your
riding togs and we'll order the horses. I don't intend to let this
play-acting upset your health."
But I refused. "Unless, of course, you insist," I finished. He only
shook his head, however,
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