A horrible foreboding seized Cynthia. What if Neal had run away? But no; surely he would never do such a thing. The idea of her even thinking of it, when such a course would only make people believe that he had really taken the money. Cynthia scolded herself severely for having allowed the supposition to come into her mind. But where was he? As a last resource she called Janet to her and again questioned the child closely. They were standing on the drive in front of the house.
"What did Neal say to you, Janet, when he went off?"
"Oh, he was awful mad, I told you, Cynthia. He was just mad."
"But did he say anything?"
"Oh yes, lots. But I forget what."
"Can't you remember anything, Janet? Not one word? Did he say where he was going?"
"No-o," drawled Janet, "he just said— My, Cynthia, look at that bluebird! It's a real bluebird, sure's you're alive. Wish I could catch him."
"But, Janet, never mind the bird. What did Neal say?"
"Oh, he said good-by and he was going. Cynthia, I b'lieve if I had some salt to put on that bird's tail I could catch him. Mayn't I, Cynthia? Mayn't I get some salt and put it on his tail?"
"No, you can't!" cried Cynthia, stamping her foot. "I do wish you would tell me all Neal said."