“Well, of course—since we’d be away three days. In this weather it would be a very good thing to do, I think.”
“You are a blessed Daddy,” declared his daughter rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. “I never knew anyone with such beautiful ideas.” She jigged on her seat with delight. “Oh, and, Daddy, I’ll be able to put you on to such a splendid new hole for fishing!”
“Will you, indeed?” said Mr. Linton, smiling at the flushed face. “That’s good, dear. But how did you discover it?”
Norah’s face fell suddenly. She hesitated and looked uncomfortable.
“Oh,” she said slowly; “I—we—found it out last trip.”
“Well, we’ll go, Norah—as soon as I can fix it up,” said her father. “And now, have you heard anything about the Winfield murderer?”
“Not a thing, Daddy. Brownie thinks it’s just a yarn that he was seen about here.”
“Oh, I don’t think so at all,” Mr. Linton said. “A good many people have the idea, at any rate—of course they may be wrong. I’m afraid Brownie is rather too ready to form wild opinions on some matters. To tell the truth, I was rather worried at the reports—I don’t fancy the notion of escaped gentry of that kind wandering round in the vicinity of my small daughter.”
“Well, I don’t think you need have worried,” said Norah, laughing up at him; “but all the same, I’m not a bit sorry you did, if it brought you home a day earlier, Dad!”
“Well, it certainly did,” said Mr. Linton, pulling her ear; “but I’m not sorry either. I can’t stand more than a day or two in town. As for the murderer, I’m not going to waste any thought on him now that I am here. There’s the gate, and here comes Billy like a whirlwind to open it.”