This letter was then sent to the post-office at the gap with an immediate-delivery stamp on it.

When Mrs. Easterfield went down-stairs, her face still glowing with the pleasure given by the writing of her letter, she met Claude Locker, whose face did not glow with pleasure.

“What is the matter with you?” she asked.

“I feel like a man who has been half decapitated,” said he.  “I do not know whether the execution is to be arrested and my wound healed, or whether it is to go on and my head roll into the dust.”

“A horrible idea!” said Mrs. Easterfield.  “What do you really mean?”

“I have proposed to Miss Asher and I was treated with indifference, but have not been discarded.  Don’t you see that I can not live in this condition?  I am looking for her.”

“It will be a great deal better for you to leave her alone,” replied Mrs. Easterfield.  “If she has any answer for you she will give it when she is ready.  Perhaps she is trying to make up her mind, and you may spoil all by intruding yourself upon her.”

“That will not do at all,” said Locker, “not at all.  The more Miss Asher sees of me in an unengaged condition the less she will like me.  I am fully aware of this.  I know that my general aspect must be very unpleasant, so if I expect any success whatever, the quicker I get this thing settled the better.”

“Even if she refuses you,” said Mrs. Easterfield.

“Yes,” he answered; “then down comes the axe again, away goes my head, and all is over!  Then there is another thing,” he said, without giving Mrs. Easterfield a chance to speak.  “There is that mathematical person.  When will he be here again?”

“I do not know,” replied Mrs. Easterfield; “he has merely a general invitation.”

“I don’t like him,” said Locker.  “He has been here twice, and that is two times too many.  I hate him.”

“Why so?”

“Because he is unobjectionable,” Locker answered, “and I am very much afraid Miss Asher likes unobjectionable people.  Now I am objectionable—­I know it—­and the longer I remain unengaged the more objectionable I shall become.  I wish you would invite nobody but such people as the Foxes.”

“Why?”

“Because they are married,” replied Locker.  “But I must not wait here.  Can you tell me where I shall be likely to find her?”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Easterfield, “she is with the Foxes, and they are married.”

CHAPTER XI

Mr. Locker is released on Bail.

Nearly the whole of that morning Dick Lancaster sat in the arbor in the tollhouse garden, his book in his hand.  Part of the time he was thinking about what he would like to do, and part of the time he was thinking about what he ought to do.  He felt sure he had stayed with the captain as long as he had been expected to, but he did not want to go away.  On the contrary, he greatly desired to remain within walking distance of Broadstone.  He was in love with Olive.  When he had seen her at luncheon, cold and reserved, he had been greatly impressed by her, and when he went out boating with her the next day he gave her his heart unreservedly.  When people fell in love with Olive they always did it promptly.