Her admission of that fact was scarce uttered when there came a rustling of skirts, a “Why, Mr. Frisbie!” and Chip was beside her, at which Martin, collected man of the world that he was, felt an unusual heart-throb of thankfulness.
A little later, when Uncle Jud had been summoned into their newly furnished “keeping room,” disclosures astonishing to all followed.
“We have been searching for you, Chip, far and near,” Martin assured them, “and Old Cy is still at it. He left us at the camp, almost a year ago, came to Greenvale, found you had run away, and came back to tell us. It upset us all so that we broke camp at once, taking Amzi with us, and returned to Greenvale. Old Cy there bade us good-bye and started to find you. Ray also began a search as well. I’ve advertised in dozens of papers, have kept Levi on watch for you at Grindstone ever since, and now I hope you will return with me to Greenvale.”
“I thank you all, oh, so much,” answered Chip, scared a little at this proposal, “but I don’t want to. I’m nobody there and never can be. I’d be ashamed to face folks there any more.”
“I guess she best stay with us,” put in Uncle Jud, “fer we sorter ’dopted her, ’n’ not meanin’ no disrespect to you folks, I callate she’ll be more content here. I’d like ye to get word to Cyrus, though, soon’s possible. I hain’t sot eyes on him fer forty years, ’n’,” his eyes twinkling, “I’m jest spilin’ to pull his hair ’n’ cuff him.”
“I will help out in that matter at once, and more than gladly,” replied Martin, again looking at Chip and noting how improved she was; “but I still think Miss Runaway had better return with me. We need you, Chip,” he continued earnestly, “and so does some else I can name, more than you imagine, I fancy, and my wife will welcome you with open arms, you may be sure. As for that foolish Hannah, she’s the most penitent person in Greenvale. There’s another reason still,” he added, glancing around with a smile, “and no one is more glad of it than we all are. It’s a sixty-thousand-dollar reason–your heritage, Miss Vera McGuire, for your father is dead, and that amount is now in the Riverton Savings Bank awaiting you.”
Martin had expected this news to be overpowering, and a “Good God!” from Uncle Jud, and a gasping “Land sakes!” from Aunt Mandy, proved that it was.
Chip’s face, however, was a study. First she grew pale, then flashed a scared glance from one to another of the three who watched her, and then almost did her shame and hatred of this vile parent find expression.
“I’m glad he–no, I won’t say so, for he was my father,” she exclaimed; “but I want Old Cy to have some of the money, and Uncle Jud here, and you folks, all. I was a pauper long enough,” and then, true to her instinct of how to escape from trouble, she ran out of the room.
“She’s a curis gal,” asserted Uncle Jud, looking after her as if feeling that she needed explanation, “the most curis gal I ever saw. But we can’t let her go, money or no money, Mr. Frisbie. I found her one night upon top o’ Bangall Hill. She was so starved an’ beat out from trampin’ she couldn’t hardly crawl up on to the wagon, ’n’ yet she said she wouldn’t be helped ’thout she could arn it. I think she’s like folks we read about, who starve ruther’n beg. But she kin have all we’ve got some day, an’ we jest can’t let her go.”