another lesson in angling?" he suggested.
"Because, dear friend, Thusis hitched up our horse and went to Zurich this morning."
"What? When?"
"Ere the earliest dicky-bird had caroled – ere Aurora had wiped night's messy cobwebs from the skies with rosy fingers."
"What did she go for? – that is, what did she say she was going for?"
"To purchase various household necessaries. Why?"
"She's a funny girl," he remarked evasively.
"Yes?"
"Rather."
"In what humorous particular do you hand it so generously to Thusis?" I inquired.
"Oh, you know well enough she's odd. You can't explain her. She's no peasant, and you know it. She's not Swiss, either. I don't know what she is. I don't know quite what she's doing here. Sometimes she reminds me of a runaway school girl: sometimes of the humorless, pep-less prude who usually figures as heroine in a best seller. And sometimes she acts like a vixen! … I didn't tell you," he added, "but I was amiable enough to try to kiss her that first evening. I don't know where you were – but you can take it from me, O'Ryan, I thought I'd caught hold of the original vestal virgin and that my hour had come for the lions!"
"You beast," said I, not recollecting my own behavior in the cellar. "What did she say?"
"She didn't say anything. She merely looked it. I've been horribly afraid she'd tell her sister," he added naïvely.
"Smith," I said, laying an earnest hand on his arm, "you mustn't frivol with my household. I won't stand for it. I admit that my household is an unusual one. Frankly, I have no more idea than you have that Thusis and Clelia are real servants, or why they choose to take service here with me. Probably they're political agents. I don't care. But you and I mustn't interfere with them, first, because it disorganizes my ménage; second, because I believe they're really nice girls."
"I think so, too," he said.
"Well, then, if they are, we don't want to forget it. And also we must remember that probably they are political agents of some country now engaged in this war, and it won't do for us to become involved."
"How involved?"
"Well, suppose I took Thusis more or less seriously?"
"Do you?"
"I didn't say I did. I said suppose I do? Who is she? With all her dainty personality and undoubted marks of birth and breeding – with the irrefutable evidence of manner and speech and presence – with all these ear-marks by which both she and Clelia seem plainly labeled —who is Thusis?"
"I don't know," he said soberly.
"Nor I. And yet it is apparent that she has taken no pains to play the part of a peasant or of a servant for our benefit. Evidently she doesn't care – for I venture to believe she's a good actress in addition to the rest of her ungodly cleverness.
"But she seems to think it immaterial as to whether or not you and I wonder who she may be. Mentally, Thusis snaps her fingers at us, Smith. So does Clelia."
"Clelia is gentler – more girlish and immature," he said, "but she makes no bones about having been in better circumstances. She's sweet but she's no weakling. My curiosity amuses her and she pokes a lot of fun at me."
"Doesn't she tell you anything? Doesn't she give you any hint?"
"No, she doesn't. She's friendly – willing to stop dusting and exchange a little innocent banter with me… Do you know, O'Ryan, I never before saw such a pretty girl. She's only eighteen. Did you know it?"
"No, I didn't."
"And Thusis is twenty."
I thought deeply for a while, then:
"We'd better keep away from them except when business requires an interview," I concluded.
"Why," he pointed out in annoyance, "that leaves me out entirely."
"Of course. I shall not think of Thusis at all except on terms of business. That's the safe idea, Smith, business, – strictly business. It neutralizes everything; it's a wet blanket on folly; it paralyzes friskiness; it slays sentiment in its tracks. Become a business man. Engage in some useful occupation. Suppose, for example, I pay you a franc a week to feed my chickens."
"I've plenty to do, I tell you."
"Then do it, old top, and steer shy of that little blue-eyed parlor maid of mine."
He made no answer. We prowled about until nearly lunch-time. But the odd thing was that I had lost my appetite. It may have happened because I'd begun to worry a little about Thusis.
What the deuce had that girl been doing in Zurich all this while? She was too attractive to go about that seething city alone with market-cart and horse. Some fresh young officer —
"Smith?"
He looked up, mildly surprised at my vehemence.
"Where the devil do you suppose Thusis is?" I asked.
"In Zurich, isn't she?"
"Yes, but she's been gone a long time and she ought to be back."
"Probably," he said, "she's gallivanting with some handsome young fellow along the Lake promenade. Possibly she's lunching at the Baur-au-Lac with some fascinating lieutenant. Or maybe they've strolled over to the Café de la Terrasse or to Rupps; or," he went on as though interested in his irritating speculations, "it may be that Thusis has gone out in a motor launch with some sprightly cavalier; or she may be at the Tonhalle, or at Belvoir Park."
"No doubt," said I, exasperated. "You needn't speculate further."
"Business over, why shouldn't Thusis kick up her pretty heels a bit?" he inquired.
"Because Thusis isn't that sort."
"How do you know that she isn't that sort?"
I didn't, and his question made me the madder.
"Luncheon ought to be ready," he reminded me presently. I could actually hear the grin in his voice.
"All right," said I. "I'm hungry." Which was a lie. Then, as we turned toward the house, Thusis drove into the yard.
Blue ribbons fluttered from her whip, from the fat horse's head-stall, from his braided tail. There were bows of blue ribbon on her peasant's apron, too, which danced saucily in the wind. I went over to aid her descend from the cart, but she laughed and jumped out with a flash of white stockings and blue garters.
"I've been wondering," said I, "why you were so long."
"Were you worried?"
The demurely malicious glance she flung at me became a laugh. She turned to Smith:
"Did he think somebody might kidnap his young and silly housekeeper?" she inquired. "Pas de chance! I am horridly wise!" – she touched her forehead with the tip of one finger – "and a thousand years old!" – she laid one hand lightly over her heart. And turned to me. "I
