"Yes, please," Eleanor responded. And the man helped her up beside him.
"How far are you going?" he asked.
"To Sylvy's," Eleanor answered in all simplicity.
"To Sylvy's? You don't mean Sylvy Johnson's? No wonder you want a lift. What are you going away off there for? It is a long way for a little girl to go alone. Bless me!" He looked closer. "Bless my soul, if it isn't the little Dallas girl! Why, what does this mean? What's the matter at your house that they're running you off in this fashion?"
Eleanor's cough interrupted her speech for a moment, and the man tucked a warm cover closer around her. "See here," he continued, "I'll take you home with me, and we'll see what's to be done. I'm not in the notion of your going to Johnson's by yourself. How did you expect to get back?"
"I didn't expect to get back at all, at least, not till mamma comes home."
"Why, that's the queerest thing I ever heard. Did Mrs. Murdoch send you off there?"
"No," Eleanor confessed, "I am going of my own accord. Cousin Ellen doesn't know anything about it."
"Hm—hm." Mr. Snyder nodded thoughtfully. "Well, Mrs. Snyder will settle it. I can't take you back just at once, for I must go home and feed my horses, and get a bite myself, but if mother says so, home you go."
"Oh, no, please," begged Eleanor. "I want to go to Sylvy's."