“Father, I know, has been talking to you about Amos,” he went on; “all about his noble and self-denying conduct towards my poor dear sister, and that he is going, in consequence of that horrid letter, to see her and those children of hers. I gather this partly from a few words I had with Amos before he started. But then, nobody knows where Julia lives, and nobody knows what that scamp of a fellow may be up to against my dear good brother.”
“Yes, Walter,” said his aunt, “I understand all that; and I must say that I feel a little anxious about your brother, though I know that he is in better hands than ours.”
“Well, auntie, shall I tell you what I have thought of?”
“Do, dear boy.”
“If father will let me, I should like to go and keep guard over Amos till he comes back.”
“But how can you do that?” asked Miss Huntingdon. “You said just now that no one knows where your poor sister lives except Amos himself; and it would hardly do for you to overtake him, if that could be done, and join yourself to him whether he would or no.”
“No, Aunt Kate, that is not my idea. Now, though nobody but Amos knows where Julia lives, I think I know.”
“What do you mean?” asked the other, laughing.
“Why, just this. I don’t know properly. I’m not supposed to know, and so I take it for granted that I don’t know; and yet really I believe I do know.”
“My boy, you speak in riddles.”