But this new sort of staring was quite different. He was looking at me as though he saw me, and as though he were disturbed about something. I used to turn very red and fidget and look down, and look up again, and get the boys to talk, and employ all sorts of devices to get his eyes off me. But it was all of no use; those large, calm, thoughtful eyes of his seemed screwed to my face, and at times I got quite nervous about it. After a second or even a third day had passed, and this habit of father's had become in a measure confirmed, I went down to the kitchen to consult Hannah. "Hannah," I said, "I don't think father is at all well." "And whatever do you come and say that to me for?" said Hannah. She was crosser than usual. It was the sort of day to make any woman cross, for there was a dreadful fog outside, and a lot of it had got into the kitchen, and the little stove in the farther corner did not half warm it, and Hannah had a cold. That was certain, for she wore her plaid shawl. Her plaid shawl had been left to her by her grandmother, and she never put it on except when she was afflicted with a cold. She then wore it crossed on her chest and tied behind. She did not like to be remarked on when she wore that shawl, and the boys and I respected her on these occasions, and helped her as much as we could, and had very plain things for dinner. So now, when I saw the shawl, and observed how red Hannah's nose was and how watery her eyes were, I said, "Oh dear, dear! I suppose I oughtn't to come complaining." "I wish to goodness you'd keep up in your own part of the house--that I do," said Hannah. "This fog makes one choke, and it's so dismal and dark, and one can't get any light from these bits of candles. I misdoubt me if you'll get much dinner to-day, Miss Rachel. But I don't suppose you children will mind." "I tell you what," I said; "I do wish you'd let me cook the dinner. I can, and I'd love to." "You cook the dinner!" said Hannah in disdain. "And a pretty sort of mess you'd have for the Professor if you gave him his food." "Well, at any rate, Hannah, you can't say that you are the only one who can cook. Think of Mr Von Marlo." "Don't bother me by mentioning that gawky creature." "I don't think he's gawky at all," I said. "But I say he is! Now then, we won't discuss it. What I want to know is, why have you come bothering down, and why have you took it into your head that the Professor is ill? Bless him! he ain't ill; his appetite's too hearty." "He does eat well," I admitted. "But what I wanted to tell you is this--he has taken to staring at me." Hannah stopped in her occupation, threw her hands to her sides, and then taking up a lighted candle which stood on a table near, she brought it close to me and looked hard into my face. She made a rapid inspection. "You ain't got any spots on you, or anything of that sort," she said.