“She looked able to take care of herself,” said Alice.
“Well, certainly there is something wrong,” declared Mrs. Bonnell. “That one who called herself a queen was really anxious to get rid of me, and Gypsies seldom do that if you have money.”
They discussed the matter from various standpoints, but could come to no decision. They rowed back leisurely, well satisfied, in a measure, with their day’s outing.
“Let’s stop off and see how Old Hanson is getting on at the mysterious mill,” suggested Natalie. “Poor old man—to think he took me for some one he knew.”
“Natalie is keeping quite in the lime-light since we came to camp,” laughed Marie. “Well, let’s go, it’s early yet.”
They turned their boats toward the shore of the lake where the old mill was, and, in due time, were walking toward the ancient structure.
As they neared it they heard a confusion of voices, and the rattle of goods being loaded into a wagon. Also admonitions to horses to “stand still, can’t yer?”
“What can be going on?” asked Mabel.
They soon saw. In front of the mill was a farm wagon, and old Hanson and another man were carrying the hermit’s goods from the shack, and putting them in the vehicle.
“Why, Mr. Rossmore!” exclaimed Mrs. Bonnell, as she and the girls came up, “are you moving?”