"His son! I didn't know he had a son."
"He has. His name is John. He ran away to Texas twenty years ago."
"And you've been hunting for him, too—besides that Lester Goodwin who turned out to be Reddy?"
Cordelia nodded. She did not speak.
Genevieve laughed unexpectedly.
"Of all the funny things I ever heard of! Pray, how many more lost people have you been looking for in the little state of Texas?"
Cordelia moved her shoulders uneasily.
"I—I'd rather not tell that, please, Genevieve," she stammered, with a painful blush.
Genevieve stared dumbly. She had not supposed for a moment that Cordelia had been looking for any more lost people. She had asked the question merely as an absurdity. To have it taken now in this literal fashion, and evidently with good reason—Genevieve could scarcely believe the evidence of her senses. Another laugh was almost on her lips, but the real distress in Cordelia's face stopped it in time.
"You poor dear little thing," she cried sympathetically. "What a shame to bother you so! I wonder you had any fun at all on the trip."