"Because there's a dreadful man waiting behind the sycamore-tree to kill you with a big pistol, just as they did my poor father."
"How did you learn this, Nelly?" asked Mr. Willard, wonderingly, and looking closely at her.
Then Nelly related all she had seen and heard from her hiding-place upon the orchard wall.
Mr. Willard stood in silence for some moments after Nelly had finished her story; then he lifted her upon his arm, and said:
"You are a good kind girl, little Nelly, and I thank you. Do you know that a man values his life more than anything else he possesses, and that you have saved mine? Now, Nelly, ask me for something you would like to have for yourself. No matter what it is, you shall have it. Remember, I am a very rich man."
"Would you really give me anything I ask for?" said Nelly, looking inquiringly into Mr. Willard's face.
"Yes, my dear, anything in my power. Now would you like a carriage with two beautiful little cream-colored ponies to drive yourself? Or what would you like? Speak out, Nelly, and don't be afraid."
"No," said Nelly, shaking her head. "Ponies would be very nice. But that's not it. What I want would cost ever so much more, I suppose. I want you," said she, hesitatingly, while she stroked his white beard softly with one hand, "to please give in to the poor people at Windham."
"What a strange child!" said Mr. Willard, slowly. "And is that all, Nelly?"
"Not quite," answered Nelly. "There's something more that I feel bad about."