“But where did the woman come in?” asked Mrs. Easterfield.

“Oh, she came in with some tea and sandwiches in the middle of the afternoon,” said Mr. Locker.  “I was waiting in the parlor of the tavern.  She was fairly young, and as I ate she stood and talked.  She talked about Horace Walpole.”  At this even Olive smiled.  “It was odd, wasn’t it?” continued Mr. Locker, glancing from one to the other.  “But that is what she did.  She had been reading about him in an old book.  She asked me if I knew anything about him, and I told her a great deal.  It was so very interesting to tell her, and she was so interested, that when the train arrived I was too much occupied to think that it might start again immediately, but it did that very thing, and so I was left.  However, the Walpole young woman told me there was a freight-train along in about an hour, and so we continued our conversation.  When this train came I asked the engineer how many cigars he would take to let me ride in the cab.  He said half a dozen, but as I only had five, I promised to send him the other by mail.  However, as I smoked two of his five, I suppose I ought to send him three.”

“This young man,” said Mr. Fox to himself, “is trying to appear more of a fool than he really is.”

“I have no doubt,” said Mrs. Fox to herself, “that Mr. Fox is of the opinion that this young man is making an effort to appear foolish.”

That evening was a dull one.  Mrs. Easterfield did her best, Claude Locker did his best, and Mr. and Mrs. Fox did their best to make things lively, but their success was poor.  Miss Raleigh, the secretary, sat ready to give an approving smile to any liveliness which might arise, and Mrs. Blynn, with the dark eyes and soft white hair, sat sewing and waiting; never before had it been necessary for her to wait for liveliness in Mrs. Easterfield’s house.  A mild rain somewhat assisted the dullness, for everybody was obliged to stay indoors.

Early the next morning Olive Asher went down-stairs, and stood in the open doorway looking out upon the landscape, glowing in the sunshine and brighter and more odorous from the recent rain.  Some time during the night this young woman had made up her mind to give no further thought to her uncle who kept the toll-gate.  There was no earthly reason why he, or anything he wanted to do, or did not want to do, or did, should trouble and annoy her.  A few months before she had scarcely known him, not having seen him since she was a girl; and, in fact, he was no more to her now than he was before she went to his house.  If he chose to offer her any explanation of his strange conduct, that would be very well; if he did not choose, that would also be very well.  The whole affair was of no consequence; she would drop it entirely from her mind.

Olive’s bounding spirits now rose very high, and when Claude Locker came in with his shoes soaked from a tramp in the wet grass she greeted him in such a way that he could scarcely believe she was the grumpy girl of the day before.  As they went into breakfast Mrs. Fox remarked to her husband in a low voice that Miss Asher seemed to have recovered entirely from her indisposition.