Faltering at the mystery of it, Sard tried to repeat her offer. "I meant," she said awkwardly, "you seemed to care so for books."
"Thank you," said Colter quietly. "I will leave your book in the kitchen."
It was done with so final an air that there was nothing for the girl to do but follow Minga out of the orchard, but before she left the garden she raised her eyes with a swift inquiring look into the strong blue ones fixed upon her. What she saw there puzzled and dismayed her. A sudden thought set her heart to beating quickly. "Minga," called Sard suddenly, "Minga, wait for me!" Startled like a bird, the girl sped out of the little garden patch. The two hurried toward the house.
Minga put her hand on Sard's shoulder; a look of frank curiosity and inquiry was on her face. "Where did he get that name Colter?" she demanded.
"It was printed in the old wreck of a cap he wore, but he says it is not his name. But he can't remember his name. Well," asked Sard breathlessly, "well, what do you think?"
Minga faced the older girl solemnly. "Look here," she demanded, "what is that creature—who is it—where did you pick it up?"
"Then you felt it, too," Sard demanded triumphantly. "You know he isn't a common person?"
Minga shook her head solemnly. "I don't know what I know," obstinately, "only it can't be the President of the United States, you know, and it isn't any kind of foreigner and yet—yet he seems to feel as if he were some punkins."
"Then you do see it, too?" Sard was exultant. She grasped the arm of the other girl. "Come on up to my room in the tower and we can talk. Don't let Aunt Reely join us."