Her uncle was fidgeting by the door. “I told you what he said,” he replied. “You don’t want to hear it all over again.” “You didn’t tell me much of anything. You didn’t seem to want to talk about it.” “Eh?... Oh, well, there wasn’t anything to talk about.... Good Lord!” irritably, “what are you so particular about that fellow for? Haven’t you had enough of him? Look at the mess he’s got us all into.” She looked at him. “Why, Uncle Foster!” she cried indignantly. “How can you say such a thing as that? It was he who brought Seymour home that night. If it had not been for him--Uncle Foster, what do you mean? Have you heard anything more--anything new about the accident? Tell me, have you?” The tone in which the question was asked caused him to glance at her. Her eyes were fixed upon his face and he noticed that her clasped hands were trembling. “No-o,” he replied, with a shake of the head. “Nothing that you need to worry about, anyway.” “Have you heard _any_thing?” He pulled his beard. “I’ve heard enough silly talk to make a sailing breeze for a thousand-ton ship,” he grumbled. “I didn’t pay any attention to it and you mustn’t either.” “Have you--has any one said anything to you about--oh, about Seymour and--and Bob Griffin having been seen that night somewhere down on the lower road together?” He frowned. “So it has got around to you, has it?” he observed, impatiently. “Yes, yes; I’ve heard that lie. There is nothing to it. Nobody knows where it comes from and no one can find out. When I get time I’ll run it into the ground and stamp on the snake that started it. But it is just one more fool yarn. Forget it, Esther... Now don’t bother me any more. I’ve got a hundred things to do between now and train time.” She realized the truth behind this exaggerated statement, but she was far from satisfied. There was so much more she would have liked to ask. “Then he--Bob, I mean--didn’t say anything to you about-- He didn’t tell you any more particulars at all?” “No.” “What did you talk about? You were there such a long time. I was waiting for you to come back and--” These persistent inquiries angered him. Apparently she had not entirely lost interest in this Griffin, after all. “He didn’t tell me anything I didn’t know already,” he declared, brusquely. “And I told him a few things myself. Now you behave like a sensible girl and put him out of your mind. That is what I want you to do, and it is what I expect of you. If you want to think of somebody, think of poor Seymour. God knows he is entitled to your thinking, just now.”