“I am afraid,” I went on, “it would be but another instance of the blind leading the blind if I attempted to guide you about the Dale. I will do my best if you will tell me where you live, unless, indeed, you would prefer to stay here until morning. The place is at your service and I could very easily waken the—”
But my visitor’s negative gesture was very decided.
“What house is this?” she demanded.
“It is called Stone Hollow,” I told her.
“Oh, I know Stone Hollow,” she cried. “It was Mrs.—Mrs.—a lady with a curious name, but I have forgotten it.”
“Mrs. Mackaluce,” I volunteered. “She was my aunt.”
“Yes, that was the name, I remember now. I have been here before, but never by the—the back window. If you can put me on the roadway outside Stone Hollow I shall know where I am.”
“I can take you home, at all events, if you can show me the way,” I said.
The girl looked at me for a moment or two doubtfully as if that were not quite what she had intended.
“It is not right that you should be out alone at this time of the night,” I added.