“That was Ned Tone,” she said. “He had been running, I know. You didn’t see him; and I am sure he didn’t see you, by the questions he asked. But he wouldn’t have come spying like that if he didn’t think there was a chance of your being here.”
“Do you suppose he has seen a paper and suspects something?” asked Tom.
“I don’t know. I couldn’t see anything in his manner to suggest it. He was just as he always is—except that he asked if I had seen anything of a stranger recently.”
“Where is he now?”
“Sitting on the porch. I told him to wait there—that I would soon be back.”
“And he didn’t wait!” exclaimed Tom. “He came sneaking after you.”
He stepped past the girl and ran forward through the tall grass.
“I see you,” he shouted as he ran. “What are you prying ’round here for? Stand up and show yourself.”
Ned Tone advanced reluctantly from the belt of forest that separated the old clearings from the new, with an air of embarrassment and anger. Tom walked aggressively up to him, halting within a yard of him. They were in plain sight of Catherine.
“So it’s you!” exclaimed Tom. “Were you looking for me?”