“Yes, but I did not use it. I sent it back to Mr. Brunsen just as soon as I knew where to find him,” said Nell, holding her head very high now, while her cheeks glowed redder than before.
“Sent it back? Whatever do you mean, child?” asked Mrs. Nichols, in a puzzled tone.
“I was standing in the big shed at Camp’s Gulch, back in the summer, when I saw the gentleman whom I had taken care of at the Lone House, standing talking to someone else on the Settlement road, and when I asked Joey Trip who it was, he said it was Mr. Dick Brunsen, the man who afterwards cheated the Syndicate. So I wrote a note to say where I had found the money, and sent it back to him in a letter,” said Nell, rather unsteadily.
“What did this person say in reply?” asked Mrs. Nichols, frowning heavily.
“There was no reply, of course, for I put no address, and I posted it here in Bratley,” said Nell.
“That man Joey Trip is an idiot,” announced Mrs. Nichols, with tremendous emphasis.
“What do you mean?” queried Nell, in surprise.
“I mean just what I say; and if I were not so fond of you, I should say that you are an idiot too,” retorted Mrs. Nichols, sourly.
“But why?” asked Nell, more puzzled than before.
“For thinking that the man who took the trouble to send you this parcel was that drinking, cheating, thieving Dick Brunsen whom you tied up in that Chinaman’s coffin.”