"Some one I dislike!" I answered, trying to think who he could mean.
"Yes, but it is all right, I hope. It's—it's—Moth," he answered at last, catching his breath.
This piece of news, which he had sought to lead up to with, so much pains, and which if I had not been so dull I would have guessed, I was altogether unprepared to hear. Surely nothing so startling could have been dreamed of, and repeating the name over and over, I sat staring at him, unable to say more.
"Yes, Moth," he went on, "the rascal! I saw the letter on her table."
"What did it say?" I asked, after a while, scarce able to speak.
"I could only read the name, for your cousin came in at the moment, and made such an ado about my spying into her correspondence that I was frightened. When I told her again and again that I had not read a word the letter contained, she finally appeared to believe what I said, and there the matter dropped."
"Do you think he knows I'm here?" I asked, foolishly, feeling sure he did.
"I am afraid so, else why should he write to her? He must have found out that you stopped off here, and so have traced you. Some one in Rock Island has written him—betrayed you, Gilbert, I fear," he added, coloring, and winding his line absently about the stick he held.
"Yes, but what am I to do? I'll not let Moth take me. I'd throw myself into the river first," I answered, scarce knowing what I said.
"No, of course not; and if it turns out that he is really after you, you must go to your Uncle Job. It is only a few hours' ride, and if there is no boat, you can go by the highway. There is no need to act hastily, though. Let us watch and see. Maybe it is all right, after all."