“And he said nothing about where he was going?”
“Not a wor-rd.”
“Nor how long he would stay?”
“Not a wor-rd.”
“Well!” cried Ruth, with some vigor, “it is the strangest thing! How could he act so? And you have been so kind to him!”
“He was troubled in his mind, Miss Ruth. I kin see you are troubled in yours. Kin old Con help ye?” asked the cobbler, shrewdly.
“I don’t know,” Ruth said, all of a flutter. “I am dreadfully anxious about Neale O’Neil’s going away so abruptly.”
“He’s a smart boy for his age. He’ll get into no trouble, I belave.”
“I’m not so much disturbed by that thought,” admitted Ruth. “I am really selfish. I want to see him. Agnes let Neale take something we found in our garret, on Christmas Eve, and—and—well, it’s something valuable, I believe, and I must show it to Mr. Howbridge as soon as possible.”
“Something vallible, is ut?” observed Mr. Murphy, with his head on one side.