trange?"

"More than strange."

"And you can't find Mr Brettison either?"

"No; but I'm not surprised at that. He's collecting chickweed and
`grundsel,' as Mrs Brade calls it, somewhere. But I shall be glad when
he comes back."

Edie sat thoughtfully for a few minutes.

"You see, directly you cannot get to see him because his doors are shut
you begin to think something is wrong."

"Naturally."

"And that's absurd, Percy--Mr Guest."

"No; no; don't take it back again like that," he pleaded.

"Mr Guest," she said emphatically. "Now look here: he must come to his
chambers sometimes, because he would want his letters."

"Possibly," said the visitor coldly, for that formal "Mr Guest" annoyed
him.

"And he communicates with the people at the institution."

"Yes, but he has given them no fresh address."

"Then naturally they write to his chambers, and Mal--this man gets his
letters from time to time. There's nothing shocking the matter. He is
avoiding you, and wants to break off the intimacy."

"Then he is not going to," said Guest with spirit. "I'm afraid he has
done something wrong some time."

"Indeed?" said Edie, with her eyes twinkling.

"I mean, men do."

"Oh!"

"I have, lots of times."

Edie grew a little more stately--a hard task, for she was too _petite_
to look dignified.

"I don't mean anything bad," said Guest hastily; "and if old Mal thinks
he is going to get rid of me he's mistaken. I'm not a woman, to throw a
fellow over because he's had some trouble in the past. I forgive him
whatever it is."

"I suppose wicked people find it easy to forgive other sinners?" said
Edie demurely.

"Of course. Poor old lad!" said Guest thoughtfully; "I wonder what he
did do."

"I'd rather not discuss such matters, if you please, Mr Guest," said
Edie coldly.

"Oh, very well, Miss Perrin. I thought I could come to you for help and
counsel as a very dear friend, if as nothing else, and, now I want your
help, you back out."

"No, I don't--Percy."

"Ah!"

Only that interjection, but it meant so much in words--and acts, one of
which resulted in the fair young girl pointing to the chair from which
Guest had risen, and saying, with a little flush in her cheeks:

"Suppose somebody had come into the room. Sit down, please, Mr Guest."

He obeyed.

"Now come; help me," he said. "We must forgive poor old Malcolm,
whatever it is; and one of these days perhaps, someone else will."

"No, nev