“Yes, she certainly would have told you,” agreed Mary Louise.  “But she declared that even I would not be interested in reading it.”

“That’s the only point that perplexes me,” said the lawyer.  “Just—­that--one—­point.”

“Why?” asked the girl.

But Mr. Conant did not explain.  He sat bolt upright on his seat, staring at the back of Bub’s head, for the rest of the journey.  Mary Louise noticed that his fingers constantly fumbled with the locket on his watch chain.

As the lawyer left the car at the station he whispered to Mary Louise: 

“Tell Irene that I now know about the letter; and just say to her that I consider her a very cautious girl.  Don’t say anything more.  And don’t, for heaven’s sake, suspect poor Miss Lord.  I’ll talk with Irene when I return on Friday.”

On their way back Bub maintained an absolute silence until after they had passed the Huddle.  Before they started to climb the hill road, however, the boy suddenly slowed up, halted the car and turned deliberately in his seat to face Mary Louise.

“Bein’ as how you’re a gal,” said he, “I ain’t got much use fer ye, an’ that’s a fact.  I don’t say it’s your fault, nor that ye wouldn’t ‘a’ made a pass’ble boy ef ye’d be’n borned thet way.  But you’re right on one thing, an’ don’t fergit I told ye so:  thet woman at Bigbee’s ain’t on the square.”

“How do you know?” asked Mary Louise, delighted to be taken into Bub’s confidence—­being a girl.

“The critter’s too slick,” he explained, raising one bare foot to the cushion beside him and picking a sliver out of his toe.  “Her eyes ain’t got their shutters raised.  Eyes’re like winders, but hers ye kain’t see through.  I don’t know nuth’n’ ‘bout that slick gal at Bigbee’s an’ I don’t want to know nuth’n’.  But I heer’d what ye said to the boss, an’ what he said to you, an’ I guess you’re right in sizin’ the critter up, an’ the boss is wrong.”

With this he swung round again and started the car, nor did he utter another word until he ran the machine into the garage.

During Mary Louise’s absence Irene had had a strange and startling experience with their beautiful neighbor.  The girl had wheeled her chair out upon the bluff to sun herself and read, Mrs. Conant being busy in the house, when Agatha Lord strolled up to her with a smile and a pleasant “good morning.”

“I’m glad to find you alone,” said she, seating herself beside the wheeled chair.  “I saw Mr. Conant and Mary Louise pass the Bigbee place and decided this would be a good opportunity for you and me to have a nice, quiet talk together.  So I came over.”

Irene’s face was a bit disdainful as she remarked: 

“I found the cushion this morning.”

“What cushion do you refer to?” asked Agatha with a puzzled expression.

Irene frowned.

“We cannot talk frankly together when we are at cross purposes,” she complained.