"Did you get Miss Holladay's signature to that conveyance?" Mr. Graham
chanced to ask his partner in the course of the morning.
"No, sir," answered Mr. Royce, with just a trace of embarrassment. "I
called at the house last night, but she sent down word that she was
too ill to see me or to transact any business."
"Nothing serious, I hope?" asked the other quickly.
"No, sir; I think not. Just a trace of nervousness probably."
But when he called again at the house that evening, he received a
similar message, supplemented with the news imparted by the butler, a
servant of many years' standing in the family, that Miss Holladay had
suddenly decided to leave the city and open her country place on Long
Island. It was only the end of March, and so a full two months and
more ahead of the season; but she was feeling very ill, was not able
to leave her room, indeed, and believed the fresh air and quiet of the
country would do more than anything else to restore her shattered
nerves. So the whole household, with the exception of her maid, a
cook, house-girl, and under-butler, were to leave the city next day in
order to get the country house ready at once.
"I don't wonder she needs a little toning up," remarked our chief
sympathetically. "She has gone through a nerve-trying ordeal,
especially for a girl reared as she has been.
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