“He must have picked them up tramping about,” said Beth.
Moving to the table, Eliza took up the books and magazines which he had left her. The book was one on the wild flowers and weeds of the Alleghanies. It was handsomely illustrated and most comprehensive, dealing with their medicinal as well as floral values.
“It’s written by Joseph Barnes Hillis,” she said. “Isn’t it strange that it should be the same name as the tramp’s? The article in the magazine is by the same writer. How strange! I’ll—”
She did not finish the sentence, for Sam Houston and old Squire Stout entered without knocking—one of the irregularities of social convention in the locality.
“Good evening, folks,” said Sam. “Eliza, I’ve come over on strange business. It’s queer how things do happen.”
The squire took the most comfortable seat in the room and leaned back in his chair. “It’s certainly a most curious circumstance,” he said. He opened his coat and took from his pocket a weather-beaten, worn old leather purse.
CHAPTER XIV.
The squire laid the purse on the table with an air which spoke volumes. “It certainly is mysterious how things do work out,” he said. He was always deliberate in speech, but fortunately, he said little. His particularly impressive method of procedure was to look wise.
Miss Eliza glanced at the purse. It was not attractive. Touched with mildew, soiled and almost filthy, it was rather repulsive. She had learned that Sam was not one to be questioned when he had a story to tell. The only way was to let him go slowly and interpolate with indifferent matters of all sorts.
“There ain’t much to tell about the finding of the purse,” he began. Then Eliza understood. But she did not reach forward to seize what might contain something which would reveal Beth’s identity. It came to her that that meant losing Beth. For an instant she felt that she could not give her up.