A man slouched along close to the river. His hat was on one side, and his hands were in his pockets.
Every boathouse he came to he read the name upon the top, as evidently he was looking for some one.
Suddenly he stopped before an unusually pretty house, with the boathouse below.
“Biddy Roan,” he read on the sign.
“The old dear lives here,” said he out loud. “Oh, I know she will be glad to see me again after all these years for my mother’s sake, if not for my own.”
Then he knocked at the door.
“Who is there, do you suppose, Tom?” asked Nellie softly; “it is late for any one to come for boats.”
“Yes, but we will soon find out.”
He went to the door, and opened it, when a man stepped in, but halted as he saw a beautiful girl standing there.