“Most assuredly not. I was born in Kentucky, educated at Harvard and settled on this farm my uncle left me three years ago. But before that I spent some time in Salt Lake City.”
“What a shame!” exclaimed Mary.
Mary blushed and stammered.
“That you—that she—I mean, that the father——”
“It is a shame,” he interrupted, evidently enjoying his confession to the four earnest young girls immensely. “And the worst of it is that I can’t even write to her and as for seeing her, I might as well try and see the Empress of China. I can’t get a letter to her because all her mail is opened by that old dragon of a father.”
“And can’t Evelyn write to you?” asked Nancy, her eyes as big as saucers.
Daniel Moore began laughing joyfully.
“I’ve caught you,” he cried, his handsome face lit up with merriment. Nancy could have bit her tongue for having thoughtlessly mentioned the girl’s name. The other girls could not help joining in the laughter. Miss Campbell waked up a moment, smiled sleepily at the group and closed her eyes again. The thunder of the rain on the roof and the whistle of the wind as it blew around the corner of the house muffled their voices into far-away sounds.
“Confess, now, Miss Nancy. You know this young lady.”