“Nancy Nelson. He’ll know. I’m his ward.”
“Aw, no! You ain’t?”
“Yes, I am,” said Nancy, nodding.
“Never knowed he had one. So he is yer guardeen?” grunted the red-haired boy, unwinding his legs.
The girl thought she had chatted quite enough with this very bold youth, so made no further reply.
“Ain’t he the sly one?” proceeded “Scorch” O’Brien, shaking his head. “Him a guardeen—an’ I never knowed it before.”
Evidently the fact that anything of such moment had escaped him rasped the temper of the boy. He went off muttering, and came back again, in a minute, grinning.
“Say! he must have robbed you of the estate. It sure scared him when I announced your name. Never seen him turn a hair before; but he wasn’t looking for no ‘Nancy Nelson’ ter come up and confront him like this.”
Nancy, rather offended at this “fresh” youth, swept by him through the gateway and approached the door to which she had seen the flame-haired “Scorch” go in his quest of Mr. Gordon.
Yes! “Mr. Henry Gordon” was painted upon the door. She opened it slowly and looked in.