We withdrew into his private office and he closed the door.
"You can decide for yourself," I answered. "They are entirely at your disposal."
"Humph!" he grunted, as he laid down the first one. "I wouldn't pay that girl's fare to Coney Island, judging by her capacity as a letter writer." Then he struck the communication from the forty-two-years-old damsel and gravely proceeded to show why she was the one I had best select. After awhile he asked leave to retain two or three, that he thought might be of use to him, and that I quite agreed were of none whatever to me. When he had read over about half of the entire number, he pushed the rest aside.
"You've given up your plan?" he said, inquiringly.
"By no means. But there's nothing very appetizing in that trash."
"Oh, I've a scheme. When it develops I may let you in, but not just at this stage." I wanted to tantalize him a bit. "You asked to see this stuff and I've obliged you."
Just at this moment Tom Barton came in, and Harvey threw a newspaper over the heap of letters, lest it should attract his attention and arouse his suspicions. It was quite needless, for Tom never suspected anything in his life. We talked over a few trifles for fifteen minutes and then, as Tom said he must be going, I walked out into the hall with him.
"I'm going home early," he remarked. "Statia hasn't felt very well for the past day or two, and I am a little worried about her."
I was sincerely sorry to hear it. My chagrin over the things she said to me had modified a good deal and I entertained at that moment only the kindest feelings toward her.
"I wish you would come up to dinner to-night," said Tom, wistfully. "I think that would brighten her up if anything can. She's not ill, but merely out of sorts. Come, that's a good fellow."
I had as lief go there as anywhere and I consented without more demur. There was something in the dog-like attachment of Tom for me that was touching, and in a few days more I would be gone from him for months. As for his sister, I was sure she couldn't bother me more than I could her. I had the two letters in my pocket. If she tried any of her games, I would read them to her.
Statia was unquestionably pale that evening when, after some delay, she came into the parlor to greet me. But she assumed a cheerful air and, when Tom went up stairs and left us alone, inquired if I had carried out my plan of advertising for a companion on my voyage.
