“I hear you’ve had some thrilling experiences in the mountains, Westy! Tell us about them!”
Westy thought a moment and wondered if the occasion was propitious. He hadn’t much time! Nothing like getting it over with, he reasoned, as Mrs. Mitchell laid down the book she was reading to listen to him.
He told them of their strange meeting with Lola and the charming little ivy-covered cottage with its flower garden and related her story of Lone Star with its touch of sweet romance. He was careful not to divulge the names of either young men in the story whom the Indian Princess had aided.
And he went on to tell of those two lonely creatures who were living in poverty now, a lady approaching old age and a girl who had all the charming quaintness of the old world.
He didn’t omit a detail even down to old Mitchell’s prejudice, having kept them from having what was rightfully theirs.
Their own terrible ordeal in the forest Westy told him, but skimming it over lightly and laying more stress on the plight of Lola and her grandmother.
When he came to the part in this real-life narrative of the cottage burning and all their homely possessions going, Westy actually saw a tear fall on Mrs. Mitchell’s cheek.
“They have been shamefully treated,” Mr. Mitchell finally said. “Who are these people?”
“Their name is Redmond,” Westy answered, and waited to see the effect it had. But he was disappointed, for the name meant nothing to them.
“Who did you say the man was who so misused the confidence of the first John Redmond?”