“I’m not ill, Mr. Lightener.”

“Huh! ...  I liked your looks—­like ’em yet.  Like everybody’s looks who works here, or I wouldn’t have ’em. ...  You’re all right, I’ll bet a dollar—­all right. ...  You know young Foote got you your job here?”

He saw the sudden intake of her breath as Bonbright’s name was mentioned.  “Yes,” she said, faintly.

“What about him?...  Know him well?  Like him?”

“I—­I know him quite well, Mr. Lightener.  Yes, I—­like him.”

“Trust him?”

She looked at him a moment before replying; then her chin lifted a trifle and there came a glint into her eyes.  “Absolutely,” she said.

“Um!...  Good enough.  So do I. ...  Enough to let him play around with my daughter. ...  Has he anything to do with the way you look to-day?...  Not a fair question—­yet.  You needn’t answer.”

“I shouldn’t,” she said, and he smiled at the asperity of her tone.

“Mr. Bonbright Foote seems to be causing his family anxiety,” he said.  “He’s disappeared. ...  I guess they think you carried him off.  Did you go somewhere with him in his car last night?”

“You have no right to question me, Mr. Lightener.”

“Don’t I know it?  I tell you I like you and I like him—­and I think his father’s a stiff-backed, circumstantial, ancestor-ridden damn fool. ...  Something’s happened or Foote wouldn’t be telephoning around.  He’s got reason to be frightened, and good and frightened. ...  A girl, especially a girl in your place, hasn’t any business being mixed up in any mess, much less with a young millionaire. ...  That’s why I’m not minding my own business.  You work for me, don’t you—­and ain’t I responsible for you, sort of?  Well, then?  Were you with Bonbright last night?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Huh!...  Something happened, didn’t it?” “Nothing that—­Mr. Foote had anything to do with—­”

“But something happened.  What?”

“I can’t tell you, Mr. Lightener.”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Where is he now?”

“I don’t know.”

“When did you see him last?”

“A little after nine o’clock last night.”

“Where?”

“Going toward home—­I thought.”

“He didn’t go there.  Where else would he go?”

“I don’t—­know.”  Her voice broke, her self-control was deserting her.

“Hey!...  Hold on there.  No hysterics or anything.  Won’t have ’em.  Brace up.”

“Let me alone, then,” she said, childishly.  “Why can’t you let me alone?”

“I—­Confound it!  I’m not deviling you.  I’m trying to haul you out of a muss.  Quit it, will you?” She had sunk into a chair and covered her face.  He got up and stood over her, scowling.  “Will you stop it?  Hear me?  Stop it, I tell you’...  What’s the matter—­anyhow?  If Bonbright Foote’s done anything to you he hadn’t ought to I’ll skin him alive.”