“I am afraid you can hardly be called a man,” said the lady with another smile. “Still you are not a woman or girl, and I shall feel safer for having you here. I am afraid I am a sad coward. What is your name?”
“Paul—Paul Parton.”
“That is a nice name.”
“My husband has been called to Washington,” she added, after a pause, “and will be absent possibly ten nights. Knowing my timidity, he recommended my sending for a messenger boy. I may say, however, that I have some reason for alarm. Two houses in this block have been entered at night within a month. Besides, through a thieving servant, who was probably a confederate of thieves, it has become known that we keep some valuables in a safe in the library, and this may prove a temptation.”
At this moment an extremely pretty girl of fourteen entered the room, and looked inquiringly at Paul.
“Jennie,” said Mrs. Cunningham, “this is Paul Parton, who is to protect and defend us tonight, if necessary.”
Jennie regarded Paul with a smile.
“Won’t you be afraid?” she asked.
“No, miss,” answered Paul, who was instantly impressed in favor of the pretty girl whose acquaintance he was just making.
“I’m not easily frightened,” he answered.