Evelyn had grasped her parasol, and she took up the card-case again.

Mrs. Whipple was half ashamed of herself; but she was also convinced.

She took another step.

"Of course you see him; he must be reaching out to all Warry's friends in his loneliness."

Mrs. Whipple's powers of a.n.a.lysis were keen, but there were times when they failed her. She did not know that her question hurt Evelyn Porter; and she did not know that Evelyn had seen John Saxton but once since the day they all stood by Warry's grave.

Mrs. Whipple disapproved of herself as she followed Evelyn to the door.

She had no business to pry into the girl's secrets in this way; the sweep of the foulard touched her, and she sought to placate her conscience by burying her new-found knowledge under less guilty information.

Evelyn spoke of the place which her father had bought at Orchard Lane, on the North Sh.o.r.e, and told Mrs. Whipple that she and the general were expected to spend a month there.

"You will be away all summer, I suppose. It's fine that your father has taken the course he has. He might have felt that he must stay at home closer than ever, to look after his interests."

"It's more for Grant than for himself," said Evelyn; "but he realizes too that he must take care of himself."

"That's a good deal gained for a Western business man. It's been a terrible year for you, dear,--your father's illness and these other things. You need rest."

She took the girl's cheeks in her hands and kissed her, and Evelyn went out into the spring afternoon and walked homeward over the sloping streets.

Mrs. Whipple pondered long after Evelyn left. Evelyn was not happy. She was not mourning a dead lover, nor one whose life was eclipsed in shame; but another man disturbed her peace, and Mrs. Whipple wondered why. She was still pondering when the general came in. He had been out to take the air, and after he had brought his syphon from the ice-box he was ready to talk.

"Evelyn has been here," said Mrs. Whipple. "She asked us to come to them for a visit. You know Mr. Porter has bought a place on the North Sh.o.r.e."

"It sounds like a miracle. Jim Wheaton didn't live in vain if he's responsible for that."

They debated their invitation, which Mrs. Whipple had already accepted, she explained, from a sense of duty to Evelyn. The general said he supposed he would have to go, with a show of reluctance that was wholly insincere and to which Mrs. Whipple gave no heed. They were asked for July. They discussed the old friends whom they would probably see while they were East, until the summer loomed pleasant before them, and then the talk came back to Evelyn.

"The child doesn't look well," said Mrs. Whipple.

"I shouldn't think she would, with all the row and rumpus they've been having in their family. Abductions and murders and abscondings at one's door are not conducive to light-heartedness."

"She's annoyed by all this gossip about her and Warry. She doesn't know that Wheaton is supposed to have taken more than a friendly interest in her."

"Well, I wouldn't tell her that, if I were you--if Wheaton didn't."

"Of course he didn't!"

"Well, he didn't then." The syphon hissed into the gla.s.s.

"Evelyn and Warry weren't engaged," said Mrs. Whipple. The general held up the gla.s.s and watched the gas bubbling to the top.

"It's just as well that way," he said. "It saves her a lot of heartache."

"That's what I think," said Mrs. Whipple promptly. In such conversations as this she usually combated the general's opinions. An exception to the rule was so noteworthy that he began to pay serious attention.

"They weren't, but they might have been. Is that it?"

"No. Anything might have been. There's no use speculating about what can't be now."

"I suppose that's true. Well?"

"Something is troubling Evelyn, and I'll tell you what I think it is. I think it was Saxton all along."

"I always told you he was a good fellow. He's really shown me some attentions, and that's more than most of the young men have done, except Warry. Warry was nice to everybody. But Saxton's alive and hearty and hasn't skipped for parts unknown. Why is Evelyn mourning?" He shook the gla.s.s until the ice tinkled pleasantly.

"I don't know. Maybe--maybe he doesn't understand!"

"He isn't stupid," said the general, thoughtfully.

"Of course he isn't."

"It may be that he isn't interested--that she doesn't appeal to him.

Such a thing is conceivable."

"No, it isn't! Of course it isn't!"

The general laughed at her scornful rejection of the idea.

"You tell me, then."

"What I think is, that there is some reason--perhaps some point of honor with him--that keeps him away from her. He was Warry's friend. He was nearer Warry in his last years than any one. Don't you think that something of that sort may be the matter?"

The general was greatly amused, and he laughed so that Mrs. Whipple's own dignity was shaken.

"Amelia," he said, "your a.n.a.lytical powers are too sharp for this world.

You're shaving it down pretty fine, it seems to me. I wish you'd tell me what you base that on."

"I'm not basing it; but it seems so natural that that should be the way."

The syphon gurgled harshly and sputtered, and the general put it down sadly.

"Now that you've solved the riddle in your own mind, how are you going to proceed? You'd better not try army tactics on a civilian job. Saxton isn't a second lieutenant, to be regulated by the commandant's wife."

"He's a dear!" declared Mrs. Whipple irrelevantly. "If Evelyn Porter wants him, she's going to have him."

"Oh, Lord!" The general took up his syphon to carry it back to the case in the pantry. "He's 'a dear,' is he? Amelia, John Saxton weighs at least one hundred and eighty pounds. I don't believe I'd call him 'a dear.' I'd reserve that for slim, elderly persons like me, or young girls just out of school." He stood swinging the syphon at arm's length.

"Now, if my advice were worth anything, I'd tell you to let these young people alone. If you've guessed the true inwardness of this matter--as you probably haven't--they'll come out all right."

"Of course they'll come out all right," she answered, dreamily. The swinging door in the dining-room fanned upon her answer as the general strode through into the pantry.

For several weeks following Mrs. Whipple continued to think of Evelyn and her affairs. Evelyn was not an object of pity, and yet there was a certain pathos about her. Her position in the town as the daughter of its wealthiest citizen isolated her, it seemed to Mrs. Whipple. A girl would be less than human if the experiences to which Evelyn had been subjected did not make a profound impression upon her. Mrs. Whipple had seen a good deal of trouble in her day. She felt that Evelyn had learned too much of life in one lesson; if she could ease the future for her, she wished to do it. With such hopes as these she occupied herself as spring waxed old and summer held the land.

CHAPTER XL