“But this is trespassing altogether too much on your hospitality,” he returned. “Besides, you scarcely know me and I didn’t come prepared. I left Philadelphia this morning, meaning to be back there by night.”
“Oh, we’ll fix you out,” said Rex with an air of finality, “so go on with your Arab story.”
It was most comfortable on that porch with its southern exposure, the fireflies dancing to the chirp of the crickets, the span of the railroad trestle looking like a fairy bridge against the background of the sky. Mr. Keeler decided to stay.
Roy wondered what the others would think if they knew that their guest was aware of what had recently befallen the family. He should most decidedly not have told all he had if he had foreseen what was coming.
At ten o’clock Eva suggested that Mr. Keeler was probably tired from his journey, so the boys went up stairs with him.
“I’ll come down and lock up,” Roy called back to his sisters.
When he returned in a few minutes, leaving Rex talking bicycle with their guest, he found the girls standing in the library, over a large book which they had open on the table before them.
“Look there!” exclaimed Jess, almost in a tragic tone, just as he entered.
She was pointing at something in the upper left hand corner of the page. Eva started as she looked at it and then turned a frightened face toward Roy.
“Roy, come here,” she said.