Michael Haymond stood gazing thoughtfully toward the ravine for a moment. Then, recovering himself, he followed Mrs. Masterbrook into the house to look at the cook stove.
"Now Penny—don't say it," declared Mr. Nichols when he was alone with his daughter.
"Don't say what, Dad?"
"That I'm making a big mistake to hire young Haymond. I can see you feel that way."
"Well, yes, I do," Penny admitted. "I like Michael a lot, but I don't exactly trust him. He hasn't told us much about himself——"
"That's his own business. I haven't any patience with folks who go prying into other persons' private affairs."
"I thought that was the work of a detective," Penny said teasingly.
"When a man commits a crime, then his actions become a matter of public concern," Mr. Nichols replied. "I had a long talk with Michael last night and if I'm any judge of character, he's a decent sort. I don't intend to pry into his personal affairs just for the pleasure of it."
"Well, if the tin spoons disappear don't blame me," Penny laughed, imitating the housekeeper's shrill voice.
"Young Michael will save me a great deal of petty annoyance," Mr. Nichols went on. "I mean for him to serve as a buffer between me and Mrs. Masterbrook."