CHAPTER XV
THE PURSUIT
Neale O'Neil did not return to Mr. Con Murphy's with a creel of fish until late afternoon. He was going to clean some of his fish and take them as a present to the Corner House girls; but something the little cobbler told him quite changed his plan.
"Here's a letter that's come to ye, me bye," said Con, looking up from his tap, tap tapping on somebody's shoe, and gazing over the top of his silver-bowed spectacles at Neale.
"Thanks," said Neale, taking the missive from the leather seat beside Mr. Murphy. "Guess it's from Uncle Bill. He said he expected to show in Durginville this week."
"And there's trouble at the Corner House," said the cobbler.
"What sort of trouble?"
"I don't rightly know, me bye; save wan of the little gals seems to be lost."
"Lost!" gasped Neale anxiously. "Which one? Tess? Dot? Not Agnes?"
"Shure," said Con Murphy, "is that little beauty likely to be lost, I ax ye? No! 'Tis the very littlest wan of all."