“How did you know?” he asked in surprise.
“I will tell you presently, only I should like to hear your story first,” she answered, with a little catch in her voice, as she thought of the confession she would have to make concerning her disposal of those thirty dollars; and then she began to wonder how long it would take her to save the money which Doss Umpey had spent, so that it might be restored to its rightful owner.
“There isn’t much more story to tell. When I crossed to the mainland this day two weeks ago, I took the cars to Lewisville, tramped from there to Button End, and, happily, found Mrs. Lipton at home. From her I learned a lot about you, which interested me greatly; but when I asked for your address, Mrs. Lipton could only direct me to a Mrs. Nichols at Bratley Junction, and I should have pursued my pilgrim way to Bratley in due course, but for your dropping out of the clouds at my feet, as it were, this evening. But where have you been hiding so carefully all this long time, and why?”
It was Nell’s turn for explanations now, but her story took so long in the telling, and raised so much comment from the listener, that by the time it came to an end the two were going down the last slope of the road to the depot, while a flood of silvery moonlight showed up their figures in strong relief.
“Nell, is it you?” rang out a shrill boy’s voice, and Patsey came bounding from the shadows by the side of the road, where he had been watching and waiting for the last hour, afraid to go any farther from the house, lest he should miss her, and so add to the anxiety and confusion already existing at home.
“I lost my way, that is why I am so late. Is Gertrude much worried?” asked Nell.
“Flossie has nearly cried herself sick, and Gertrude has bothered a good deal. But a lady has come—the summer boarder; only it isn’t the Miss Alfreton that you expected, but her sister, a Mrs. Bronson, and she’s a downright good sort, for she has been in the kitchen all the evening serving soup and toad-in-the-hole.”
“My mother!” exclaimed the man with the big bundle on his back, who was walking on the other side of Nell, and at whom the boy had been peering curiously.
“Oh, I say, are you the Mr. Bronson, the professor at Royal Mount College, that had the tussle with a bear in the Yosemite Valley?” demanded Patsey, eagerly.
“The very same; but that is ancient history now, for it happened five years ago, and I have become wiser since then,” he said, with a laugh which rang through the quiet night.