“Well, don’t worry about it,” she said, “and I think now you ought to be ready for breakfast. Come, I guess Mary has something ready.”
The boy stood up beside Cora, then, following an impulse that he plainly could not resist, he stepped between her and the door to the dining room.
“I ain’t hungry, miss,” he said, “but I want to warn you. You better git out of the state!”
So sudden and so unexpected was this bit of advice that Cora almost laughed, but looking into the earnest face before her she was constrained to repress even a smile.
“Why, Andy,” she cried, “I am not afraid of any one. I don’t have to run away.”
“Well, you better be,” he declared, his cheeks reddening to the very tint of his hair. “You better be afraid of Ramsy and Schenk. They’re a hot team.”
“But what have I done?” continued Cora, for the boy’s manner demanded attention.
“My uncle didn’t do anything either when he got out of the state. And if it hadn’t been for that he would have been sent up. Fer nothin’, too.”
That there was more wisdom than eloquence in this was plain to Cora, but, even at that, she failed to grasp the whole meaning of Andy’s warning.
“Will you go to-day?” he almost begged.