Mr. Pearsall was curious to know something of their business, and when they were once more in the house the two young auctioneers told their story, to which both the farmer and his wife listened with deep interest.
As it continued to snow, Matt and Andy decided to remain at the farmhouse over night, and arrangements were made to that effect. They spent a pleasant evening, and all hands retired early.
In the morning, much to their joy, they found that the snow had stopped coming down, and that the sun was shining brightly. They had an early breakfast, and then, after settling with Mr. Pearsall, who did not wish cash, but took goods his wife desired instead, they set off for Pittston, which was scarcely half a mile distant.
Billy had had a good rest, and the city mentioned above was reached in a short while. Here they arranged for an extra horse, that was hitched up in front of their own. In this manner they started for Scranton with more confidence.
The road was as rocky and uneven as before, but it being bright and clear, they were enabled to avoid hollows with ease. They stopped at Taylor for dinner, and arrived in Scranton an hour before 283 nightfall, tired out, but happy to think that their journey, for the balance of the week at least, was over.
As soon as they had settled in a vacant store Matt left Andy in charge and hurried to the post-office, to look for a letter from Ida Bartlett. He was not disappointed; the letter was there, and he read it with deep interest.
“Since receiving your letter,” she wrote, “I have been watching Mr. Fenton closely, and I am satisfied that he is much disturbed over the fact that Mr. Gaston has left his employ and that he was threatened with exposure. I have also taken the liberty to write to Mr. Gaston, but have, as yet, received no reply. Will write again as soon as he answers. It is a pity you cannot find out what became of your poor father and the papers.”