"Not that I know of. They've kept it from me if there is, but
there's Richard, he can tell you," and he pointed toward a man in
a distant part of the grounds.

Curtseying to her companion, Edith ran off in the direction of the
figure moving so slowly down the gravelled walk.

"I wonder what makes him set his feet down so carefully," she
thought, as she came nearer to him. "Maybe there are pegs in his
shoes, just as there were in mine last winter," and the barefoot
little girl glanced at her naked toes, feeling glad they were for
the present out of torture.

By this time she was within a few rods of the strange acting man,
who, hearing her rapid steps, stopped, and turning round with a
wistful, questioning look, said,

"Who's there? Who is it?"

The tone of his voice was rather sharp, and Edith paused suddenly,
while he made an uncertain movement toward her, still keeping his
ear turned in the attitude of intense listening.

"I wonder what he thinks of me?" was Edith's mental comment as the
keen black eyes appeared to scan her closely.

Alas, he was not thinking of her at all, and soon resuming his
walk, he whispered to himself, "They must have gone some other
way."