“Thet’s what she did—a boy brought me word. At least, I guess it was from her. Nobody else here’d be sendin’ me any messages, would they, an’ invitin’ me out here t’ see them?”
“No,” I answered; “no, sir; I don’t think they would.”
“Well, I come, anyway; an’ I knocked at the front door, but didn’t git no answer. Then I jest naterally wandered around a little, thinkin’ she might be out here some’rs, an’ I see you a-settin’ here—an’ quite an interestin’ conversation we’ve had, to be sure. You tell her—”
“I don’t believe she sent for you, sir,” I interrupted. “She wouldn’t have gone away, if she was expecting you, and I’m sure she hasn’t come back yet. Besides, if she wanted to see you, she could have done so when she drove to town, instead of getting you to come away out here.” I might have added that I was perfectly certain mother did not want to see him, but to have said so would have been scarcely polite.
“Thet’s so,” he agreed, and stood for a moment in deep study. “Well, I dunno,” he added, at last, slowly. “Looks kind o’ funny, don’t it? Mebbe I made a mistake in thinkin’ the message was from her. I ort t’ have asked the boy. But if anybody’s been playin’ me a trick,” and his face darkened, and he looked at me threateningly, “they’d better watch out.”
“Oh, nobody has been playing you a trick!” I hastened to exclaim. “Who would play you a trick?”
“I dunno,” he repeated. “I dunno. But I’m glad I come, anyway. It’s allers a pleasure t’ meet sech a bright little girl as you air. I know people run me down an’ lie about me; but I jest want t’ tell you thet Silas Tunstall’s heart’s in the right place an’ thet he plays square. I suppose they’ve been tellin’ you all sorts o’ things about me?”
“Oh, no,” I answered politely; “not at all.”
“Said I was a spiritualist, hey?”
“Yes, they said that,” I admitted.