“Now aren’t you getting somewhere?” whispered Teddy.
Josie had to acknowledge that she was. To enter the old Ellett house as a guest of the present master was surely an opportunity to search for the motive of the kidnaping.
“After everyone is gone we must tell your mother about Ursula, and you must give her the letter from the poor dear,” said Josie.
The guests soon dispersed and then Josie and Teddy were closeted with Mrs. Trask, who listened with eagerness to all they had to say of Ursula. She wept over the letter and was violent in what she had to say of Cheatham, who had so wickedly estranged them from the poor girl. She readily agreed with her son and Josie that for the time being they must not let Cheatham know that his perfidy was known to them.
CHAPTER XV
AN ANONYMOUS LETTER
While Josie feasted and schemed in the pleasant home of Colonel and Mrs. Trask in Peewee Valley, there were sad hearts in Dorfield. With no news of little Philip, and no word from Josie, Ursula had almost wept her spirit from her eyes.
Uncle Peter and Aunt Hannah Conant had done all they could to make Ursula and Ben feel that they were a real uncle and aunt instead of chance acquaintances. Irene had begged them to come and stay with her and had eagerly insisted upon sharing her room with Ursula while Ben was to have the tiny hall room next to the old couple, but Ursula felt she must remain in her own little apartment, in case some word from Philip might arrive.
Josie had departed on the midnight train and the rest of the night dragged by, Ben sleeping in spite of himself, because he did not want to sleep at all, but his heavy eyelids refused to stay open. Ursula occasionally dropped into a doze but would awaken with a start, dreaming someone was bringing news of her little brother.
Christmas morning dawned with a bright sun sparkling on the deep snow. Dorfield was alive with sleighing parties and holiday noises, the popping of fire crackers and shouts of boys and girls coasting down the hill on the main street of the town, regardless of traffic regulations. There was a good hill on that street and coasting was a sport long before traffic regulations were even heard of—and so it continued.