"And to think this other young man is a perfect stranger," went on Laura, dolefully. "There is no telling what sort of a person he is."
"He's no stranger to me. I helped to pull him out of the water when the steam yacht was on fire," answered Dave. "I guess he's all right as far as that goes, although I don't think much of his keeping company with Link Merwell."
"Do you suppose it can be a plot hatched up by Link Merwell?"
"I don't know what to think. This news stuns me. I've got to consider it. Maybe I had better go back to Crumville, too."
"No, Uncle Dunston said you had better stay here—at least for the present. He said if they wanted you they could send you word."
"Oh, all right," and now Dave's voice showed a faint trace of bitterness. "Maybe they don't want me around, if they have really settled it that I am not the real Dave Porter."
"Oh, Dave! Don't want you around!" Laura sprang to her feet, and coming over to him, caught both his hands in her own. "Don't talk that way. Even if they should prove that you are not my brother, I shall always think just as much of you."
"Thank you for saying that, Laura," he returned, with much emotion. "It's nice to know that there is somebody who won't go back on me."
"I don't believe anybody will go back on you, Dave—you have always been so good. Oh, I think this is dreadful—just dreadful!" and Laura showed signs of bursting into tears once more.
"Where are Jessie and Mrs. Wadsworth, and Mrs. Basswood?"