“And you will not be,” with a smile, “driven from Denboro by that cross old Captain Dean?”
“I shall not be driven—no.”
“Then Mr. Taylor did help you. He promised me he would.”
“He promised you? When? When did you see George Taylor?”
She appeared confused. “I—I—Of course I saw him at the house this noon, when he came to see Father.”
“But he could not have promised you then. He had helped me already. Did you see him before that?”
“Why, how could I? I—”
“Miss Colton, answer me. Was it you that met him at the Ostable station this morning? Was it?”
She was as red as the reddest of the autumn leaves. She laughed, confusedly.
“I did meet him there,” she confessed. “That queer Mr. Cahoon, the station agent, told me that Captain Dean had telegraphed him to come. I knew he would probably be on that train. And Mr. Cahoon told me about his being interested in stocks and very much troubled. You had told me, or as much as told me, that you sold the land to get money to help some one. I put two and two together and I guessed the rest. I met him and Nellie and we rode to Denboro together in our auto. He promised me that he would make everything right for you. I am so glad he did!”