_"He_ didn't himself--nor did you write me it afterwards. We speak of
it now for the first time. That's exactly why!" Milly declared--with
something in her face and voice that, the next moment, betrayed for her
companion that she had really known nothing, had only conjectured and,
chancing her charge, made a hit. Yet why had her mind been busy with
the question? "But if you're not, as you now assure me, in his
confidence," she smiled, "it's no matter."
"I'm not in his confidence, and he had nothing to confide. But are you
feeling unwell?"
The elder woman was earnest for the truth, though the possibility she
named was not at all the one that seemed to fit--witness the long climb
Milly had just indulged in. The girl showed her constant white face,
but that her friends had all learned to discount, and it was often
brightest when superficially not bravest. She continued for a little
mysteriously to smile. "I don't know--haven't really the least idea.
But it might be well to find out."
Mrs. Stringham, at this, flared into sympathy. "Are you in trouble--in
pain?"
"Not the least little bit. But I sometimes wonder----!"
"Yes"--she pressed: "wonder what?"
"Well, if I shall have much of it."