“I said we might go there,� Patsy amended. “Or we might go—’most anywhere. Do let us go with you; please, Dick.�
“Where?�
“Oh! wherever you are going. We’ll not tell.�
“You certainly will not,� he declared; “for a mighty good reason: you are not going to know anything to tell.�
Patsy’s eyes flashed. “We’ll show you,� she said. “We are going to follow you, like your shadow. You know good and well I can run as fast as you. Now take your choice, sir; let us go with you, or give up and toddle home and finish your task so as not to get punished.�
“Hm!� he jeered. “If I’ve got something on hand good enough to take punishment for, it’s too good to spoil with girls tagging along.�
He walked briskly up the road. Anne and Patsy followed him for a silent mile—up and down hills scarred with red gulleys, through woods, by brown plowed fields and green grain land. They passed several log cabins; the Spencer place, an old mansion amid tumbled-down out-buildings; Gordan Jones’s trim new house gay with gables and fresh paint. Then they came to an old farmhouse surrounded by neglected fields.
“Why, that door’s open!� Anne remarked with surprise. “Is somebody living at the old Tolliver place?�
“A new man; Mr. Smith. He came here last winter,� explained Patsy.
“Somebody new in the neighborhood!� laughed Anne. “Doesn’t that seem queer? What sort of folks are they?�