"Run away with me!" exclaimed she, with a troubled look.
"What should we do with you after we had landed you?"
"O, I won't give you any trouble at all—not a bit."
"We don't mind the trouble, Miss Loraine; we were only thinking what would become of you."
"I have an uncle in New York city—my father's brother. If I can only get to him, it will be all I want," she answered, and her future course seemed to be clear enough to her.
"But how will you get to New York?" I asked.
"I don't know; I would rather walk than stay at Cannondale any longer."
"Haven't you written to your uncle?" asked Bob.
"No; I don't know what his first name is; and Mrs. Loraine won't let me write any letters. I wrote one once, and directed it to Mr. Loraine, New York, but she burnt it up."
"Do you think you could find him?"