And so he came home at last.
Just as he expected she immediately discovered the fact of his having his hand bound up; for little news reached the rather secluded home of the widow, and no neighbor had chanced to hear the story of what had happened at the home of the banker.
"What is the matter—have you had an accident, son?" She exclaimed, taking his hand in hers.
Then she looked more closely, and he knew that she had noticed the kerchief.
"Don't worry, mother; it's only a little burn, nothing serious at all," he said.
"But who put this here—a lady's handkerchief, too? Something has happened, I can see it in your eyes. Tell me at once, Dick. What new danger have you been in now?" she went on, putting her arm around him as they walked toward the door.
"None at all, mother. There was just the littlest bit of fire, and I tore down the curtains and shade, never thinking of my hands. Why, it was all over in three seconds, I believe."
"Curtains—shade—where was this?" she asked, anxiously.
"At Mr. Gibbs' house. He sent me up after some papers, and I was just in time to jump in and play volunteer fireman. You see they insisted on doing my hand up in this ridiculous way, and made me promise not to take it off until you could dress it again to-night. But it doesn't amount to much, I give you my word, mother."
"Oh! come and sit down and tell me all about it. Supper can wait. I believe you have been in danger and won't say so for fear of frightening me. Did their beautiful home burn down—what a pity that would be? And what caused it all."