“You’re right there, Mr. Fox,” answered Mrs. Brock. “I was awful skeered about it, for I thought my Nancy might be on the train. When the boy run into my yard——”
“The boy! What boy?” asked Fox, eagerly.
“It was that boy you are guardeen of.”
“What, Harry Vane?” ejaculated Fox, in genuine surprise.
“Tell me all about it, Mrs. Brock.”
“Well, you see, he ran into my yard all out of breath, and grabbin’ a red tablecloth from the line, asked me if I would lend it to him. ‘Land sakes!’ says I, ‘what do you want of a tablecloth?’”
“‘The track’s washed away,’ he said, ‘and I want to signal the train. There’s danger of an accident.’ Of course, I let him have it, and he did signal the train, standin’ on the fence, and wavin’ the tablecloth. So the train was saved!”
“And did he bring back the tablecloth?”
“Of course, he did, and that wasn’t all. He brought me a ten-dollar bill to pay for the use of it.”
“Gave you a ten-dollar bill!” exclaimed John Fox, in amazement. “That was very wrong.”