He looked up hopelessly at Knutty, and broke off.
Knutty gave no sign.
"Twice I nearly ran away from father," the boy went on. "I—I wanted to be alone—not with father—once at New York—and another time at Chicago. There were two fellows going out West from there, and—I wanted to be alone, not with father—and I thought I could get along somehow—other fellows do—and then I remembered how you said that he only had me—-and I stayed—but——"
He looked up again at Knutty, and this time she answered:
"I know," she said. "I understand."
"You don't think it beastly of me?" he said.
"No," she said, "not beastly at all; only very, very sad."
"You won't let father know I—I nearly left him?" Alan asked.
"No; you may rely on me," she answered gently. And she knew that she was speaking the truth, and that she would have no heart to tell Clifford. With her quick insight she saw the whole thing in a flash of light. She guessed that Mrs Stanhope had got hold of the boy, and planted in his heart some evil seed which had grown and grown. The difficulty was to find out exactly what she had said to him; and Knutty knew that Alan would be able to tell her only unconsciously, as it were, involuntarily. Her kind old heart bled for the lad when she thought how much he must have suffered, alone and unhelped. His simple words about wanting to get away from his father spoke volumes in themselves. And he seemed to harp on this, for he said almost at once:
"You see, I shall be going back to school, and then to college, and then to work."