Part 31 (2/2)
”An' n.o.body'll urge you to, dear heart. Don't fret, child, don't fret.
To-morrow we'll straighten this snarl all out an' 'til then you've got nothin' to fear. Them as love you shall stay by, I give you my word on it.”
”Hadn't I better go home to-night and tell them?”
The old inventor considered a moment.
”I don't believe I would,” he answered at last. ”They ain't expectin'
you, an' if you was to go lookin' so white an' frightened as you do now, 'twould anger Zenas Henry an' upset 'em all. Wait an' see what happens to-morrow. 'Twill be time enough then. You're tired, sweetheart. Stay here an' rest to-night. What do you say, Bob?”
”I think it would be much wiser.”
”Course 'twould,” nodded Willie. ”You stay right here, like as if nothin' had happened, an' think calmly about it a little while, child.
You ain't got to decide a thing at present; furthermore, there may not be anything for you to decide. We've no way of figgerin' what your--your--relations mean to do. Just trust 'em a bit. They're Bob's friends an' I guess we can count on 'em to act as is fair an' right.”
”They _are_ Bob's friends, aren't they?” repeated the girl, her face brightening as if the fact, hitherto forgotten, gave her confidence.
”And splendidly loyal friends too,” the young man put in eagerly.
”Then I will trust them,” she said. ”It isn't as if they were strangers.”
How Robert Morton longed to go to her, to tell her in her sweet dependence how eager he was for the day when no friend of his should be a stranger to her; when their lives would be so closely intertwined that every interest, every hope, every thought of his should be hers also. Perhaps the unuttered wish that trembled on his lips was reflected in his eyes, for after looking up at him she suddenly dropped her lashes and, turning away, followed Tiny into the house.
”I've cautioned Celestina not to go talkin' to her any more just now,”
announced the little old man when she had gone. ”Your aunt's an awful good woman; no better lives. But there's times like today when things don't strike her as they do me an' Delight. She's so fond of the girl that her first thought would be for the money an' all that; but that would be the last consideration in the world in Delight's mind. She's awful loyal an' affectionate. Things go deep with her, an' she sets a heap of store by the folks she cares for. Why, Zenas Henry is like her own father. Since she was a wee tot she ain't known no other. While this old lady, her grandmother--what is she? Why, she don't mean nothin'--not a thing!”
They walked on toward the shop door, each occupied with his own reveries; then suddenly Willie roused himself.
”Why, if here ain't Janoah!” he exclaimed.
”What you doin', Jan? Was you after somethin'? I reckon you found the place pretty well deserted an' were wonderin' what had become of us all.”
”I warn't doin' no wonderin', Willie Spence,” the man replied. ”I knowed where you'd gone 'cause I saw you ridin' away like a sheep bein'
led to the sacrifice.”
”Like a what?” repeated the inventor with a grin.
”An innocent lamb, or a rat in a trap,” Janoah said with solemn emphasis.
”What are you drivin' at, anyhow?” questioned Willie.
”You didn't suspect nothin'?”
”Suspect anything? No, of course not. Why?”
”You hadn't a suspicion the whole thing was a decoy?”
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