Olive had not joined the Broadstone party at dinner the night before.  She had been too tired, and had gone directly to her room, where, after a time, Mrs. Easterfield joined her; and the two talked late.  One who had overheard their conversation might well have supposed that the elder lady was as much interested in Lieutenant Asher’s approaching nuptials as was the younger one.  When she was leaving Mrs. Easterfield said: 

“You have enough on your mind to give it all the trouble it ought to bear, and so I beg of you not to think for a moment of that absurd idea about your uncle’s engagement.  I never saw the woman, but I have heard of her; she is a professional scandal-monger; and Captain Asher would not think for a moment of marrying her.  When Mr. Lancaster comes to-morrow you will hear that she was merely consulting him on business, and that you are to go to the toll-gate to-morrow as soon as you can.  But remember, this time I am going to send you in the carriage.  No more bicycles.”

In spite of this well-intentioned admonition, Olive did not sleep well, and dreamed all night of Miss Port in the shape of a great cat covered with feathers like a chicken, and trying to get a chance to jump at her.  Very early she awoke, and looking at her clock, she began to calculate the hours which must pass before Mr. Lancaster could arrive.  It was rather strange that of the two troubles which came to her as soon as she opened her eyes, the suspected engagement of her uncle pushed itself in front of the actual engagement of her father; the one was something she knew she would have to make up her mind to bear; the other was something she feared she would have to make up her mind to bear.

CHAPTER XVIII

What Olive determined to do.

Olive was very much disappointed at breakfast time, and as soon as she had finished that meal she stationed herself at a point on the grounds which commanded the entrance.  People came and talked to her, but she did not encourage conversation, and about eleven o’clock she went to Mrs. Easterfield in her room.

“He is not coming,” she said.  “He is afraid.”

“What is he afraid of?” asked Mrs. Easterfield.

“He is afraid to tell me that the optimistic speculations with which he tried to soothe my mind arose entirely from his own imagination.  The whole thing is exactly what I expected, and he hasn’t the courage to come and say so.  Now, really, don’t you think this is the state of the case, and that if he had anything but the worst news to bring me he would have been here long ago?”

Mrs. Easterfield looked very serious.  “I would not give up,” she said, “until I saw Mr. Lancaster and heard what he has to say.”

“That would not suit me,” said Olive.  “I have waited and waited just as long as I can.  It is as likely as not that he has concluded that he can not do anything here which will be of service to any one, and has started off to finish his vacation at some place where people won’t bother him with their own affairs.  He told me when I first met him that he was on his way North.  And now, would you like me to tell you what I have determined to do?”