No nearer to an understanding of their motive in taunting her, Gloria felt more urgent the need of becoming better acquainted with these Gorman children.
“If I just dared go see their mother,” she meditated further. “But she might eat me up!”
She had finally decided to search out the home of the children when on her way home from school that afternoon a curious thing occurred. Old Squire Hanaford hailed her, as she was passing his office.
“Isn’t your name Doane?” he asked briskly.
“Yes, sir,” replied Gloria.
“You’re Harriet Towers’ niece, ain’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” again replied Gloria.
“Well, I’ve been a’waitin’ to see you. Suppose you just step in a moment,” he suggested.
Up the steps with a one-sided hand rail, Gloria followed the old man. He was twirling his glasses in a professional way, and inside the small door placarded with a country sign, she discovered the clue to his profession. One sign read:
Homer Hanaford, Justice of the Peace