"I wish they were," says he; "but they're not. At the last moment, it
seems, Robbie decided she didn't care for a foreign trip,--too late in
the season, and she didn't want to be going over just when everyone was
coming back, you know. So they went up to Thundercaps instead."

"Sounds stormy," says I.

"You're quite right," says he. "But it's a little gem of a place that
young Talbot's father built up in the Adirondacks. I was there once.
It's right on top of a mountain. And that's where they are now, miles
from anywhere or anybody."

"And spoony as two mush ladles, I expect," says I.

"Humph!" says he, tossin' the brass paper knife reckless onto the
polished mahogany desk top. "They ought to be, I will admit; but--oh,
hang it all, if you're to be of any use in this beastly affair, I
suppose you must be told the humiliating, ugly truth! They are not
spooning. Robbie is very unhappy. She--she's being abused."

"Well, what do you know!" says I. "You don't mean he's begun draggin'
her around by the hair, or----"

"Don't!" says Mr. Robert, bunchin' his fists nervous. "I can't tell.
Robbie hasn't gone into that. But she has written her mother that she
is utterly wretched, and that this precious Nick Talbot of hers is
unbearable. The young whelp! If I could only get my hands on him for
five minutes! But, blast it all! that's just what I mustn't do
until--until I'm sure. I can't trust myself to go. That is why I must
send you, young man."