He came into the dining room, smilingly bade her good-morning, and they sat down to breakfast. She was apprehensive. They had agreed that neither should keep a secret from the other, but, in spite of this agreement, she was certain that this secret--hers and Bob’s--must be kept, at least until she was sure what her final answer to Bob should be. When her mind was fully made up, either one way or the other, she would tell him, but meanwhile it was far better for all concerned to say nothing. So she tried her best to appear at ease and, while pouring the coffee, commented upon the weather and similar safe and everyday topics. His replies were equally casual. Nevertheless she was still fearful. It seemed to her that those sharp eyes of his must see through her pretense. Apparently they did not. He spoke of the Paris trip, of course. She was to sail in a few weeks. He had written another letter to Mrs. Carter and bade the latter make preparations to leave as soon as possible. “Not that I’m in a hurry to get rid of you,” he added, with a rueful smile. “I guess you know it isn’t that. But I am something like Sarah Bigsby, after she lost her husband. She told Colton, the minister, that she didn’t know but she wished Isaac had died sooner, because if he had she would have had more time to get used to missing him in.” It was not until they were about to rise from the table that he mentioned the subject she most dreaded. “Humph!” he observed, folding his napkin. “Well, young Griffin was as surprised when you told him the news as we thought he would be, eh?” Esther was thankful that her own napkin required folding. She could look at that and not at him. “Yes, Uncle Foster,” she answered. “He was very much surprised.” “I’ll bet! And glad to have you go, of course?” She pretended not to notice the irony in the question. “Why, he was glad I was to have such a wonderful trip and the opportunity to keep on with my music,” she replied. “Um-hum. I’m sure of that. Coming around Friday night, as usual, is he?” “I--I don’t know.... Why, yes, I do know, too. He said he should come, so I suppose he will.” The statement seemed, for some reason, to irritate him. He thrust the folded napkin into the ornate and massive silver ring--it had been a birthday gift from his wife--and rose to his feet. “Humph!” he growled. “I’ll bet! If he ’tends church as regular as he does here he’ll stand a better chance for heaven than any of his crew I ever heard of.... There, there!” he added, his ill-humor vanishing as quickly as it came. “Don’t mind my crankiness. I am liable to be that way for a while. Every time I think of sitting down to breakfast here without you I want to bite somebody. For the first few mornings after you leave I guess likely ’twill be better to have Nabby wait on table, instead of the other girl. Nabby would be moderately safe. I don’t imagine I should bite her; she’s too old and stringy to tempt my appetite.”