So Peter and Polly “held tight” while inwardly they feared that King’s Forest was in deadly peril and that they had let the unsuspecting people in for who could tell––what?
About five o’clock Kathryn came upon the scene. Her late encounter had left her careless as to her physical appearance; she was a bit bedraggled and her low shoes and silk hose––a great deal of the latter showing––were evidences against her respectability.
“I’m Mr. Northrup’s fiancée,” she explained, and sank into a chair by the hearth.
Aunt Polly did not know what she meant, but in that she belonged to Northrup, she must be recognized, and plainly she was not Chinese!
Peter fixed his little, sparkling eyes on his guest and his hair rose an inch while his face reddened.
“Perhaps you better go to your room,” he suggested as he might to a naughty child. He wanted to get the girl out of his sight and he hated to see Polly waiting upon her. Kathryn detected the tone and it roused her. No man ever made an escape from Kathryn when he used that note! Her eyes filled with tears; her lips quivered.
“Mr. Northrup’s mother is dying,” she faltered; a shade more or less did not count now––“help me to be brave and calm for his sake. Please be my friend as you have been his!”
This was a wild guess but it served its purpose. Peter felt like a brute and Aunt Polly was all a-tremble.
“Dear me!” she said, hovering over the girl, “somehow we never thought about Brace’s folks and all that. Just you come upstairs and rest and wash. I’ll fetch you some nice hot tea. It’s terrible––his mother dying––and you having to break it to him.” Polly led Kathryn away and Peter sat wretchedly alone.