[CHAPTER XVII.]
IN THE ARBOR.
Back of the Kossuth House was a good-sized garden, reaching through to a partially built-up street in the rear. Kitchen vegetables monopolized one half of it. In the other beds of phlox and petunias and hollyhocks gayly inclosed a broad, open grass-plot. A path divided it, and at the lower end of this, not far from the back street, was a roomy grape-arbor. It was a remote, quiet nook.
It was especially quiet about two hours after breakfast that sunny morning. Gerald sat alone in it, waiting for Touchtone to return from an errand in the town. It was decided. They would leave Knoxport for New York and Ossokosee at four o’clock, unless news came to them that explained their predicament and altered their plans. This seemed unlikely. Nothing had yet been heard. Touchtone was confounded and desperate.
A conversation with Mr. Banger added a new uneasiness. He perceived that his host of the Kossuth was really inclined to doubt the genuineness of their story and the identity of himself and Gerald. His manner, at least, was, all at once, cold and unpleasant. Besides that, the amount of money they possessed was not so great, after all, certainly not inexhaustible. Every day’s moderate expenses lessened it. Their return journey was before them, besides.
“I can’t stand it, Philip; I can’t any longer! Papa is dead, or something dreadful has happened to him and Mr. Marcy. Let us get out of this place.” After breakfast Gerald spoke thus.
“But we may just be running off from the thing we are waiting for. Perhaps this very afternoon, if we should go—”
“O, Philip, please, let us go! I can’t stay shut up here, where we shall never find out any thing! It’s telling on you as much as on me, for all you try to explain things away! Not another night here! Do say yes, Philip.”
“Well—yes,” replied Touchtone, gravely. “I think it will be best. Whatever this delay comes out of, it may last indefinitely. We’ll be ready for the four o’clock train.”
Mr. Banger received this decision in silence.