Clearly whatever might be his shortcomings, inability to talk was not one of them.  And Ester, confused, bewildered, utterly thrown out of her prepared part in the entertainment, was more silent and awkward than she had ever known herself to be; provoked, too, with Abbie, with Ralph, with herself.  “How could I have been such a simpleton?” she asked herself as seated opposite her cousin at table she had opportunity to watch the handsome face, with its changeful play of expression, and note the air of pleased attention with which even her Uncle Ralph listened to his ceaseless flow of words.  “I knew he was older than Abbie, and that this was his third year in college.  What could I have expected from Uncle Ralph’s son?  A pretty dunce he must think me, blushing and stammering like an awkward country girl.  What on earth could Abbie mean about needing my help for him, and being troubled about him.  It is some of her ridiculous fanatical nonsense, I suppose.  I wish she could ever talk or act like anybody else.”

“I don’t know that such is the case, however,” Ralph was saying, when Ester returned from this rehearsal of her own thoughts.  “I can simply guess at it, which is as near an approach to an exertion as a fellow ought to be obliged to make in this weather.  John, you may fill my glass if you please.  Father, this is even better wine than your cellar usually affords, and that is saying a great deal.  Sis, has Foster made a temperance man of you entirely; I see you are devoted to ice water?”

“Oh, certainly,” Mrs. Ried answered for her, in the half contemptuous tone she was wont to assume on such occasions.  “I warn you, Ralph, to get all the enjoyment you can out of the present, for Abbie intends to keep you with her entirely after she has a home of her own—­out of the reach of temptation.”

Ester glanced hurriedly and anxiously toward her cousin.  How did this pet scheme of hers become known to Mrs. Ried, and how could Abbie possibly retain her habitual self-control under this sarcastic ridicule, which was so apparent in her mother’s voice?

The pink on her cheek did deepen perceptibly, but she answered with the most perfect good humor:  “Ralph, don’t be frightened, please.  I shall let you out once in a long while if you are very good.”

Ralph bent loving eyes on the young, sweet face, and made prompt reply:  “I don’t know that I shall care for even that reprieve, since you’re to be jailer.”

What could there be in this young man to cause anxiety, or to wish changed?  Yet even while Ester queried, he passed his glass for a third filling, and taking note just then of Abbie’s quick, pained look, then downcast eyes, and deeply flushing face, the knowledge came suddenly that in that wine-glass the mischief lay.  Abbie thought him in danger, and this was the meaning of her unfinished sentence on that first evening, and her embarrassed silence since; for Ester, with her filled glass always beside her