Nelly stood in the path some time, fearing to pass him, he looked so angry and wicked. But she had determined to try and see Mr. Willard before Bill, and so perhaps save his life. At last she heard something that sounded like a footstep. This made her forget her dread of Bill, and she sprang past his hiding-place like a frightened hare, and never stopped until she reached a small rustic gate that separated the woods from the smooth green lawn surrounding Mr. Willard's home.
From where she stood Nelly could see the wide porch of the brown-stone house, and presently Mr. Willard himself appeared hurrying across the grass. When his hand was on the gate, Nelly drew back, for she felt very timid at what she was about to do.
When Mr. Willard saw Nelly, he put on his gold-rimmed eyeglass and examined her closely, as though astonished at seeing such a small girl all alone in the woods, with a very worried expression in her eyes.
"Well," said he, "who are you, little girl?"
"Nelly Austin," she answered, without moving.
"Austin! Austin!" repeated Mr. Willard. "Are you the daughter of Mr. James Austin that was killed by the mob at Windham some years ago?"
"Yes, sir," answered Nelly, "and I want to tell you something."
"Very well," said Mr. Willard, patting her on the head. "I am listening. But speak quickly, for it is late, and I must post my letters before the mail goes out."
"Oh, Mr. Willard," cried Nelly, excitedly seizing his hand and pulling him toward the gate, "don't go through the woods to the post-office to-night!"
"Why not?" questioned the old gentleman in surprise.