"Lem-u-el!" almost shrieked Tess. "Not Lemon, child. Lemuel Aden."
"Oh, yes!" agreed the smaller girl, quite calmly. "That's just as though I said Salmon for Samuel—like Sammy Pinkney. Well! It isn't such a great difference, is it?"
"Of course not, my dear," laughed Mrs. Eland. "And from what people tell me, my Uncle Lemuel must have been a good deal like a lemon."
"Then he was your uncle?" asked Tess.
"And—and was he real puckrative?" queried Dot. "For that's what Aunt Sarah says a lemon is."
"He was a pretty sour man, I guess," said Mrs. Eland, shaking her head. "I came East when I was a little girl, looking for him. That was after my dear father and mother died and they had taken my sister away from me," she added. "But what about the man that shot the eagle? Who was he?"
Tess told her about their adventures of the previous Saturday in the chestnut woods and the visit to the farmhouse afterward. Dot added:
"And that eagle man don't like your Uncle Lem-u-el, either."
"Why not?" asked Mrs. Eland, quickly, and flushing a little.
Before Tess could stop the little chatterbox—if she had thought to—Dot replied: "'Cause he says your uncle's brother stole. He told us so. So he did, Tess Kenway—now, didn't he?"