"That's what I thought, uncle."
Mr. Rougeant looked, at his nephew and wondered what ailed him.
"Did you know she was gone?" he asked, and added: "Perhaps you met her down the road."
"No; is she gone?" asked Tom.
Said the farmer inly: "Is the fellow mad?" aloud; "Yes; she is gone to a concert."
"Where?" questioned the nephew.
"I don't know, I did not ask her."
"You let her go all alone when it is dark!"
"Yes; she's not particularly timid. She is so fond of music, poor girl, I did not care to refuse her, and, as she has fallen in with my views, or very nearly so, I must allow her a little freedom."