“For one thing, you can’t. I don’t know his name, or what he is, or where he lives. But we shall meet again soon.”

“Did you make an appointment with him?”

“No, but there’s an undertow bringing us together. It would spoil everything if I tried to throw a net to catch him. I will not move until the tide brings him into my arms. At least that is how the thing looks to me at present. I believe enough not to make haste. I don’t want to throw salt on any bird’s tail, but I do want the birds to come hopping about me, that I may tell them what I know!”

As near as he could, Wingfold recounted the conversation he had had with Richard.

“He was a fine-looking fellow,” he said, “not exactly a gentleman, but almost. He looked like a man who could do things, but I could not satisfy myself as to what might be his trade. But he was more at home in the workshop of his own mind than is usual with fellows of his age.”

“It must be old Simon Armour’s grandson,” said Helen. “I have heard of him from several people, and your description just fits. I know somebody that could tell you about him, but I wish I knew anybody to tell us about her—Miss Wylder.”

“I like the look of that girl,” said the parson warmly. “What makes you think she could tell us about my new acquaintance?”

“Only an impertinent speech of that little mischief-maker Vixen Lestrange. I forgot what she said, but it left the impression of an acquaintance between Bab, as she called her, and some working fellow the child could not stand.”

“She seems to be in church, if not regularly, at least less seldom than before.”

“I saw her there last Sunday. But I’m afraid she wasn’t thinking much about what you were saying. I could hardly take my eyes off her, my heart was so drawn to her. There was a mingling of love and daring, almost defiance, in her look. She seemed to come awake for a moment once, but then the next moment she looked as far off as before.”

“That is good, though,” said Wingfold, “because it shows there is a window in her house that may be looking in my direction—some signal may one day catch her eye! I suspect that she has true character beneath all her activity. And her mother continues to interest me!”

15. Far From Home

— Fifteen —

Far From Home

One evening Richard went to see his grandfather and asked if he would allow him to give Miss Wylder a lesson in horseshoeing. He told him she wanted to be able to shoe Miss Brown—or any horse. Simon laughed heartily at the proposal—it was too great an absurdity to object seriously to.

“You don’t know Miss Wylder, grandfather! She’ll astonish you!”