"Bless your kind heart, miss, she is doing finely. It is only an errand the young gentleman asked me to do for him. 'You will put this into her own hands, Jim O'Reilly,' he says to me; and, the saints be praised!—I have done it," finished Jim, as he burrowed in the pocket of his ragged jacket and produced a dirty scrap of paper that smelled strongly of tobacco.
Averil gave a little cry, for she had recognized the handwriting, scrawled and blotted as it was.
"I must see you, Averil. I can endure this suspense no longer. Do not be afraid. Trust yourself to Jimmy. He is as honest as the day, though a bit soft. He will bring you to me."
No more—not even a signature. But there was no mistaking Rodney's clear, familiar writing. She held it out to Frank. A gleam of pleasure crossed his face as he read it.
"Shall we go at once, Averil?" for she was watching him anxiously.
"Yes, yes. I will put on my bonnet. I must just tell Maud where we are going. What a comfort to have you, Frank!"
But Jim O'Reilly, who had been standing stolidly aside, struck in here.
"I can't be taking the pair of you, surely. It is Miss Willmot the gentleman wants. Better come along of me alone, miss, and then folks won't ask so many questions."
"But I could not think of letting Miss Willmot go alone," returned Frank, decidedly. "Look here, my good fellow: I am an old friend of the family, and Mr. Seymour will be glad to see me."
But evidently Jimmy held doggedly to his own opinion, until Averil interposed.