“It is immaterial; but I am ready to answer all your questions.  It was while we were out dining.  Chance threw us together, and to fill up the moment she asked the name of the young man I had brought into the library that morning.  I told her and explained his position and the long training he had had in local politics.  She listened, but not as closely as she did to the music.  Oh, she takes no interest in him.  I wish she did; his stories might amuse her.”

I did not pursue the subject.  Taking out the letter I had been writing, I held it out for his inspection, with the remark: 

“More copy, please, Mayor Packard.”

CHAPTER III

IN THE GABLE WINDOW

A few minutes later I was tripping up-stairs in the wake of a smart young maid whom Mayor Packard had addressed as Ellen.  I liked this girl at first sight and, as I followed her up first one flight, then another, to the room which had been chosen for me, the hurried glimpses I had of her bright and candid face suggested that in this especial member of the household I might hope to find a friend and helper in case friendship and help were needed in the blind task to which I stood committed.  But I soon saw cause—­or thought I did—­to change this opinion.  When she turned on me at the door of my room, a small one at the extreme end of the third floor, I had an opportunity of meeting her eyes.  The interest in her look was not the simple one to be expected.  In another person in other circumstances I should have characterized her glance as one of inquiry and wonder.  But neither inquiry nor wonder described the present situation, and I put myself upon my guard.

Seeing me look her way, she flushed, and, throwing wide the door, remarked in the pleasantest of tones: 

“This is your room.  Mrs. Packard says that if it is not large enough or does not seem pleasant to you, she will find you another one to-morrow.”

“It’s very pleasant and quite large enough,” I confidently replied, after a hasty look about me.  “I could not be more comfortable.”

She smiled, a trifle broadly for the occasion, I thought, and patted a pillow here and twitched a curtain there, as she remarked with a certain emphasis: 

“I’m sure you will be comfortable.  There’s nobody else on this floor but Letty and the baby, but you don’t look as if you would be easily frightened.”  Astonished, not so much by her words as by the furtive look she gave me, I laughed as I repeated “Frightened?  What should frighten me?”

“Oh, nothing.”  Her back was to me now, but I felt that I knew her very look.  “Nothing, of course.  If you’re not timid you won’t mind sleeping so far away from every one.  Then, we are always within call.  The attic door is just a few steps off.  We’ll leave it unlocked and you can come up if—­if you feel like it at any time.  We’ll understand.”