I suspect you were very, very trying, to make
Aunty Charlotte look like that."
Charlotte came down-stairs after a time and attended to the luncheon,
her lips pressed tight together, her eyes heavy--although not with
tears. She would not let herself cry.
Celia had a headache and did not notice, being herself disinclined to
talk, and Captain Rayburn forbore to look at Charlotte. But Jeff, when
he came in, observed at once that something was amiss. As soon as the
meal was over he drew Charlotte into a corner.
"You haven't been to Murdock with the pictures and been--turned down?"
he asked.
"No."
"Going this afternoon, aren't you?"
"No."
"Why not? Thought that was the plan."
Charlotte turned away, fighting hard for self-control. Jeff caught her
arm.
"See here, Fiddle, you've got to tell me. You look like a ghost. No bad
news--from New Mexico?"
"Oh, no--no! Please go away."
"I won't till you tell me what's up. You're not sick?"
Charlotte ran off up-stairs, Jeff following. "Charlotte," he cried, as
he pursued her into her room before she could turn and close the door,
"what's the use of acting like this? Something's happened, and I'm going
to know what it is.
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