“O Squire Turner!” exclaimed the widow, impulsively, “how could you contrive such a wicked plot against my poor boy? How could you send him to sea, and not tell me, when you saw I was breaking my heart at his absence?”
The squire flushed at this unexpected accusation. How in the world, he thought, could Mrs. Raymond have heard of his agency in the abduction of Harry?
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said; but his face belied his words.
“It was wicked,” said Mrs. Raymond, “to endanger his life and rob me of happiness!”
“Who makes this absurd charge against me?” demanded the squire.
The door opened, and Harry entered.
“Squire Turner,” he said, “I don’t suppose you are very glad to see me. Probably you did not expect me home so soon; perhaps not at all.”
“Where did you come from?” stammered the squire.
“From Australia.”