But Scorch—greatly to his disappointment—had nothing of moment to communicate to Nancy on that occasion, or on any other that summer. The “gray man” did not again appear at the offices and all he could say was that Mr. Gordon went on in his usual way.
“He lives in an old-fashioned hotel over on the West Side,” said Scorch, “and I’ve been in his rooms two or three times. But it don’t look to me as though he could hide the papers there anywhere.”
“Hide what papers?” demanded Nancy.
“Why, there’s always papers hidden away that would tell the heiress all she wants to know—if she could get at ’em,” declared Scorch, nodding.
“You ridiculous boy! You’ve got your head full of paper-covered story books!” exclaimed Nancy. “Did you ever hear his like, Jennie?”
“Maybe he’s right, just the same,” observed her chum, slowly. “Mr. Gordon isn’t likely to tell you anything himself. If you ever find out about your folks it will be in some such way as Scorch says.”
Bye and bye it was time to go back to Pinewood Hall again. Nancy had remained the whole summer with the Bruces, and she had enjoyed every day of that time. Yet she was glad, too, to go back to her studies.
“And so would I be, if I had a chance of standing anywhere near you in classes,” agreed Jennie. “But I’m always falling down just when I think I’m perfect in a recitation.”
But there was much more dignity in the bearing of both Nancy and Jennie when they approached Pinewood Hall on this occasion. They were full-fledged sophomores, and they could not help looking down with amused tolerance on the “greenies” who were timidly coming to the school for the first time.
It was “great,” as Jennie confessed, to be able to tell “those children” where to go, and what to do, and to order them about, as was the soph. privilege.