“Eight-and-forty hours,” said Melissa, thoughtfully; “it must be decided by that time.”
Joey, who had wit enough to perceive how matters stood, made up his mind not to deliver his message. He knew that Spikeman was well, and presumed that his staying away was to make Miss Mathews more impatient to see him. Melissa remained on the bench in deep thought; at last Joey went up to her.
“You here, my boy! what have you come for?” said Melissa.
“I was strolling this way, madam.”
“Come here; I want you to tell me the truth; indeed, it is useless to attempt to deceive me. Is that person your uncle?”
“No, miss, he is not.”
“I knew that. Is he not the person who wrote the letter, and a gentleman in disguise? Answer me that question, and then I have a message to him which will make him happy.”
“He is a gentleman, miss.”
“And his name is Spikeman, is it not?”
“Yes, miss, it is.”