Her manner to her nephew was, as a rule, severely repressive. She believed that he, in common with all other young people, required a great deal of keeping in order.
“It was Joe Gunnage as we used to know at Lewisville ever so long ago, and he has come to live at Blue Bird Ridge,” said Giles, taking off his straw hat and rumpling his hair wildly, which had the effect of making him look more foolish than before.
“Where’s that? I can’t remember that I’ve ever heard of the place,” Mrs. Munson said feebly, for she was very weak still, and neither able to speak nor think with her accustomed vigour.
“Why, you remember the Lone House on the long trail, where old Doss Umpey used to live!” exclaimed Giles.
Mrs. Munson gave a start of surprise, but Nell sat like a figure carved in stone—only her needle moved in and out of the stocking with a mechanical, almost unconscious, action.
“If you’d said the Lone House, I should have knowed before; but Joe Gunnage won’t be such a very near neighbour, for it’s a good thirty miles from here, I should say. What has become of Doss Umpey? Is he dead?”
“No; he has had to flit in a hurry, that’s all. It’s the inside of a prison he ought to see, only Joe says it’s doubtful whether they’ll catch him, because he’s such a slippery old rascal,” Giles remarked, with an air of such intense enjoyment, that Nell, writhing in her secret shame and misery, felt that she hated him.
“Oh! Has he been doing anything fresh, or was it the old business up again?” Mrs. Munson asked, with eager interest.
“A bit of both so far as I could make out. It seems that Brunsen has been talking a good deal, and that has stirred the police up. Then Joe has been grubbing out a hole at the back of the Lone House, and he has come on some things as had best be reported to the border police; that is what made him ride this way.”
“Why didn’t you ask him to come in and see me?” demanded Mrs. Munson.