The old men listened in amazement. What was this? Miss Ann Peyton openly claiming relationship with old Dick Buck’s granddaughter and riding around—minus wig and hoops—with the new-found cousin in a home-made blue car! Miss Ann was meek but happy.
“Well, I swan!” exclaimed Pete Barnes.
“What do you suppose he meant by saying they thought you were lost?” Judith asked on the way home from Ryeville. “Didn’t they know you were coming to me?” 242
“No,” faltered Miss Ann. “I seldom divulge where I intend to visit next. That is my affair,” she added with a touch of her former hauteur—a manner she had discarded with the wig and hoop skirt. Wild horses could not drag from her the fact that she had not known herself where she was going.
“That’s all right, Cousin Ann, but if you ever get tired of staying at my house I am going to be hurt beyond measure if you go off without telling me where you are going. Promise me you’ll never treat me that way.”
“I promise. I have never told the others because it has never made any difference to them.”
When the blue car disappeared up the street the old men of Ryeville went into conference.
“Don’t that beat bobtail?”
“Do you fellows realize that means our gal is recognized for good and all? Miss Ann may be played out as a visitor with her kinfolks, but she’s still head forester of the family tree,” said Judge Middleton.
“Don’t you reckon we’d better ’phone Buck Hill or Big Josh or some of the family that Miss Ann is found?” asked Pete Barnes.