"You hain't seen her, of course," observed Mrs. Sprowl, mysteriously.
"Her? who?"
"Salina!" in a whisper, as if to be overheard by a mouse in the wall would have been fatal.
"Wal, I have seen her, I reckon! Not an hour ago. By appointment. I wrote her I was coming, got a woman to direct the letter, and had a long talk with her to-night. What I want just now is, a little money, and she's got to raise it for me, and what she can't raise I shall look to you for."
"O dear me! don't say money to me!" exclaimed the widow, alarmed. "Partic'larly now I've lost my best feather-bed and my boarder!"
"What is it about your boarder? Out with it, and stop this hinting around!"
Thus prompted, Mrs. Sprowl, who had indeed been waiting for the opportunity, related all she knew of what had happened to Penn. Lysander kindled up with interest as she proceeded, and finally broke forth with a startling oath.
"And I can tell you where he has gone!" he said. "He's gone to the house I can't get into for love nor money! She refused me admission to-night—refused me money! but he is taken in, and their money will be lavished on him!"
"But how do you know, my son,——"
"How do I know he's there? Because, when I was with her in the orchard, we saw an object—she said it was some old nigger to see Toby—go into the kitchen. Then in a little while a man—it must have been Stackridge, if you say he was looking for him—went in with Carl, and didn't come out again, as I could see. I staid till the light from the kitchen went up into the bedroom, in the corner of the house this way. There's yer boarder, mar, I'll bet my life! But he won't be there long, I can tell ye!" laughed Lysander, maliciously.