Caroline
heard her sobs.
At the same moment she caught the crunch of footsteps on the stone
path that led to the arbor and crouched low behind it. Two men,
talking idly, entered the spot of shade and sank down on the rustic
bench.
"Look here, Ferris," said one voice, "is she really dippy--that
one?"
"What do you mean?" This was a deeper voice, attached evidently to
blue serge legs, for the speaker leaned to Caroline's eye level to
scratch a match on one of them.
"Oh, I mean what I say." A gray striped coat sleeve poked through
the lattice work, as the first speaker leaned hard on it. "If she
is, then I am, that's all. It looks queer to me."
The blue legs crossed themselves tightly under the seat.
"Look here yourself, Riggs," said the second voice. "If you're
curious in this matter, I advise you to ask the doctor. He's boss
here, not I--thank God! I obey orders and draw my forty per, as per
contract. The same to you, only it's hardly forty, I suppose."
"No, it's not," grunted Graycoat. "Not by a good sight. I see myself
asking the old man. I only asked your private opinion, Ferris,--you
needn't get sore about it."
"My young friend," said Bluelegs, slowly, "there's only one thing
you can ask me in this place that I won't tell you, and that's my
private opinion!"
There was a little pause.
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