Cordelia blushed a still deeper pink, but she said nothing; and in the confusion of leaving the dining-room she managed to place herself as far from Tilly as possible. On the back gallery she saw the ranch foreman. As the others went chattering through the hall to the gallery beyond, she lingered timidly.
"Mr. Nolan, would—would you please tell me Mr.—Mr. John's other name?"
"John? Oh, you mean 'Long John,' Miss?"
"Yes; but—'John' what?"
Tim Nolan frowned.
"Why, let me see,"—he bit his lip in thought—"'Pierce'—no, 'Proctor.' Yes, that's it—'John Proctor.'"
A look of mingled disappointment and relief crossed Cordelia's face.
"Thank you, Mr. Nolan, very much," she faltered, as she hurried after her companions.
"I don't know whether I'm glad or sorry," she was thinking. "Of course 'twould have been nice if he'd been John Sanborn, only I'm afraid Hermit Joe wouldn't like a cowboy for a son, specially as there wouldn't be anything for him to do in Sunbridge at his trade."
Mrs. Kennedy announced soon after supper that she should take matters in hand very sternly that night and insist upon an early bedtime hour.