The Bishop gave the boy one keen, searching look, and saw his mistake. The boy knew nothing.
“This,” the Bishop answered, as he handed Jeffrey the open telegram.
“But where’s she gone? Why did she go?” Jeffrey broke out, as he read the message.
“I thought you were coming to tell me that.”
“No,” said Jeffrey, reading the Bishop’s meaning quickly. “She didn’t write to me, not at all. I suppose the sisters wouldn’t have it. 57 But she wrote to my mother and she didn’t say anything about leaving there.”
“I suppose not,” said the Bishop. “She seems to have gone away suddenly. But, I am forgetting. You came to talk to me.”
“Yes.” And Jeffrey went on to tell, clearly and shortly, of the coming of Rogers and his proposition. Though it hurt, he did not fail to tell how he had been carried away by the man’s offer and his flattery. He made it plain that it was only his mother’s insight and caution that had held him back from accepting the offer on the instant.
The Bishop, listening, was proud of the down-rightness of the young fellow. It was good to hear. When he had heard all he bowed in his old-fashioned, stiff way and said:
“Your mother, young man, is a rare and wise woman. You will convey to her my deepest respect.
“I do not know what it all means,” he went on, in another tone. “But I can soon find out.”