"Ye-es," admitted Mrs. Steele.
"And come back with plenty of money," put in Bobby, smiling. "This poor man's money doesn't help him much, does it? He doesn't seem to have any friends here in Centerport. He is just as much a stranger as the man they tell about who came back to his old home town after a great many years and found a lot of changes. As he rode uptown his taxicab stopped to let a funeral go by.
"'Who's dead?' asked the returned wanderer of the taxicab driver.
"'Dan Jones,' said the driver.
"'Not Dan Jones that kept the hotel!' cried the man. 'Why, I knew him well. Can it be possible that Dan is dead?'
"'I reckon he's dead, Mister,' said the chauffeur, as the hearse went by. 'What d'you think they're doin'--rehearsin' with him?'"
"How very lonely the poor man must feel," said Mrs. Steele, after laughing at Bobby's story.
"We're going in to see him the next time," Jess said.
Mrs. Steele looked again swiftly at her daughter. "You will see him, too, won't you, Janet?" she murmured.
Her daughter seemed not to like the idea; but Jess said quickly: