Once, Grace, who sat beside the Little Captain in the roadster, sighed
rather dolefully and Betty looked at her out of the corner of her eye.
"Do you feel that way too, Gracie?" the latter asked.
"What way?" asked Grace uncertainly. "That sigh, do you mean?"
"Yes," nodded Betty. "You sounded rather mournful and that is exactly
the way I feel. What's the matter with us, anyway? Where are our
spirits?"
"I suppose we couldn't expect to feel joyful," said Grace after a
little pause. "We aren't going, so far as I can see, on a very happy
errand, you know."
"But I don't think it is that alone," said Betty, with a shake of her
head. "I feel as if we were going to see something perfectly
dreadful--"
"Betty," Grace looked at her in sudden alarm, her eyes wide, "you
don't suppose that the professor could have done anything-- anything
rash, do you?"
"You mean----" said Betty, hesitating before the ugly word. "Oh,
Grace, you don't mean-- suicide, do you?"
Grace nodded and tried hard not to look as frightened as she felt.
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