BLANCHE
and the scholar, but, again, there was a place set which was as yet unoccupied. Evidently in this castle of surprises the expected presence was always lacking. Rader had an open book beside him and read more than he ate. When he turned his head for a sip or for a bite, he kept his fingers between the leaves. He did not seem to be aware of the young man's entrance. It was Mrs. Rader's hand that touched him to a consciousness of it. Then he raised his eyes, smiled dimly, as with a notion of having seen Carron somewhere at some time, perhaps some years ago, and promptly returned to the pages of his book.
But Mrs. Rader accompanied her good morning with a look sufficiently aware of him, and sufficiently propitiatory for two. She had gone to call him to breakfast, she said, but as he had not answered she had supposed him still asleep. There was a faint embarrassment in her manner as she added, "I hope you rested well, that nothing disturbed you this morning?"
Carron guessed what was disturbing the good lady's sense of the decorous—that informal little scene outside his door a half hour earlier—and hastened to reassure her. "Never slept better in my life. I would have been asleep yet if it hadn't been for a brutal bluejay in a tree outside my window."
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