Poke whined: “Wal, ’twarn’t none o’ my doin’s, Tom. I tole ma how ’twould be. But she seen the notice in the Salvation Army paper. One o’ them Salvation Anns was round ter see us an’ lef’ the paper; maw said mebbe there was money in it for us ef we played our cards right——”
“And all we were trying to find Mr. Moran for was because of his little sister—and she wanting him so!” ejaculated Tavia. “My! but you Daggetts must be mean sort of folks.”
This frank statement drew no comment from Poke. He was too meek now.
“Well, I reckon you can get out,” said Tom Moran, grimly. “And tell your maw to bring around to the place where I’ve been boarding Miss Dale’s hat and coat, the watch, the pocket-book and the ring—and anything else they took from Miss Dale. If she doesn’t do it I’ll see that she and you and that Munsey woman all go to jail, where you belong. Believe me, I’ll do it!”
Tom Moran, although he had been only working at odd jobs about Dalton, was a person of intelligence and seemed to feel sure of his ability to do as he said. When Poke was out of the way, he turned back to Dorothy and smiled broadly.
“I get it that you have been interesting yourself in my affairs, Miss, and I thank you. If you can tell me anything about poor little Cely——”
“I can tell you all about her, Mr. Moran,” cried Dorothy, eagerly. “And you really couldn’t find her?”
“I’ll tell you how it was,” said Tom Moran. “I went away to get work that would pay me better. I was going to send money to Auntie every month. I went with a gang to Mexico, and the very first week we were at work a crowd of rebels came and drove us away from the job, and I got shot.
“I was in a hospital in Texas. Then I came East, after writing and getting no answer from Auntie. When I got home the very house we lived in was torn down and there wasn’t a soul in the neighborhood remembered my aunt, or little Cely, or knew what became of them.
“I hunted around and advertised in the papers, but didn’t get any news. I had to go to work again, and I got a job on the Adrian Building, that was put up right next to the old Rector Street School. I guess you read about that school being burned?” he asked, with a sidelong glance at Dorothy, that reminded the girl very much of Celia herself.