He remained so silent that she thought he was sleeping, but when she
rose to leave the room she caught his glance, so full of dumb misery
that her heart sank. She went to her mother in the kitchen. Mrs.
Floyd was polishing a pile of knives and forks, and did not look up
until Harriet spoke.
"Mother," she said, "I am afraid something has gone wrong with Mr.
Westerfelt."
"What do you mean?" asked the old lady in alarm.
"I don't know, but he got a letter this morning, and after he read it
he seemed changed and out of heart. He gave it to me to burn, and I
never saw such a desperate look on a human face. I know it was the
letter, because before he read it he was so--so different."
"Well," said Mrs. Floyd, "it may be only some business matter that's
troubling him. Men have all sorts of things to worry about. As for
me, I've made a discovery, Harriet, at least I think I have."
"Why, mother!"
Mrs. Floyd put the knives and forks into the knife-box.
"Hettie Fergusson was here just now," she said.
"This early!" exclaimed Harriet, incredulously.
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