“What is he going to do about it?”
“Nothing—now. First, he asked where the constable lived, but at last he said if we wouldn’t charge him anything for stopping here he wouldn’t make any complaint. We didn’t want the notoriety, so we let him go.”
“Perhaps it was only a game to cheat you out of what was coming to you,” suggested the young book agent.
“Oh, ma, maybe that’s so,” put in Emma.
“It might be,” answered Mrs. Farley, doubtfully. “But I shouldn’t want to be dragged into court over the matter.”
“He looked like a sharper to me,” said Frank. “Still it is possible that he lost the money. Maybe it blew out of the window.”
“We looked under the window and all over the dooryard.”
All during the meal the strange affair was discussed, but without reaching a satisfactory conclusion. Frank had a health book to deliver, and after collecting for this, and settling for his meal, he went on his way.
About a mile down the road he came across the stranger once more. The fellow was seated on a bridge that crossed a small stream, and was munching an apple.
“You certainly don’t look like an honest man to me,” was our hero’s mental comment. “I believe you’ve swindled Mrs. Farley out of her board money.”