Ellen did not at once return home. She walked on reflecting. So the old
man was Lydia Orr’s father! And she was the first to know it!
The girl had never spoken of her father, Ellen was sure. Had she done
so, Mrs. Solomon Black would certainly have told Mrs. Whittle, and Mrs.
Whittle would have informed Mrs. Daggett, and thence, by way of Mrs.
Dodge and Fanny, the news would long ago have reached Ellen and her
mother.
Before she had covered a quarter of a mile of the dusty road, Ellen
heard the muffled roar of an over-taking motor car. She glanced up,
startled and half choked with the enveloping cloud of dust. Jim Dodge
was driving the car. He slowed down and stopped.
“Hello, Ellen. Going down to the village? Get in and I’ll take you
along,” he called out.
“All right,” said Ellen, jumping in.
“I haven’t seen you for an age, Jim,” said Ellen after awhile.
The young man laughed. “Does it seem that long to you, Ellen?”
“No, why should it?” she returned.
“I say, Ellen,” said Jim, “I saw you when you came out of Bolton House
just now.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.” He looked sharply at Ellen, who smiled evasively.
“I was going to call,” she said with an innocent air, “but Miss Orr
had—a visitor.”
“Look here, Ellen; don’t let’s beat about the bush. Nobody knows he’s
there, yet, except myself and—you. You met him on the road; didn’t
you?”
“Yes,” said Ellen, “I met him on the road.”
“Did he talk to you?”
“He asked me what my name was. He’s crazy, isn’t he, Jim?”
The young man frowned thoughtfully at his steering wheel.
“Not exactly,” he said, after a pause. “He’s been sick a long time and
his mind is—well, I think it has been somewhat affected. Did he— He
didn’t talk to you about himself, did he?”
“What do you want to know for?”
“Oh, he appeared rather excited, and—”
“Yes; I noticed that.” She laughed mischievously.
Jim frowned. “Come, Ellen, quit this nonsense! What did he say to you?”
“If you mean Mr. Orr—”
He turned his eyes from the road to stare at her for an instant.
“Did he tell you his name was Orr?” he asked sharply.
It was Ellen’s turn to stare.
“Why, if he is Miss Orr’s father—” she began.
“Oh, of course,” said Jim hurriedly. “I was just wondering if he had
introduced himself.”
Ellen was silent. She was convinced that there was some mystery about
the pale old man.
“He said a lot of awfully queer things to me,” she admitted, after a
pause during which Jim turned the car into a side road.... “I thought
you were going to the village.”
“This will take us to the village—give you a longer ride, Ellen. I’ll
take you home afterwards.”
“After what?”
“Why, after we’ve got the mail—or whatever you want.”
“Don’t you think Miss Orr and that queer old Mr. —— If his name isn’t
Orr, Jim, what is it?” She shot a quick glance at him.
“Good Lord!” muttered Jim profanely.
He drew the car up at the side of the road and stopped it.
“What are you going to do?” inquired Ellen, in some alarm. “Won’t it
go?”
“When I get ready,” said Jim.
He turned and faced her squarely:
“We’ll have this out, before we go a foot further! I won’t have the
whole town talking,” he said savagely.
Ellen said nothing. She was rather angry.
“The devil!” cried Jim Dodge. “What’s the matter with you, Ellen?”
“With me?” she repeated.
“Yes. Why can’t you talk?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I want to go home,” she said.
He seized her roughly by the wrist. “Ellen,” he said, “I believe you
know more than you are willing to tell.” He stared down into her eyes.
“What did he say to you, anyway?”
“Who?”
“You know well enough. The old man. Lord, what a mess!”
“Please let me go, Jim,” said Ellen. “Now look here, I know absolutely
nothing except what I have told you, and I want to go home.”
_“Ellen!”_
“Well?”
“Can you keep a secret?”
“Of course I can, Jim!” She met his dark gaze squarely.
“Well, rather than have you spreading a piece of damnable gossip over
the village— Of course you would have told everybody.”
“You mean about meeting the old man? But won’t everybody know? If he
goes out and talks to people as he did to me?”
“You haven’t told me what he said.”
Ellen raised her brows with a mischievous air.
“I didn’t care to spread any—what sort of gossip did you say, Jim?”
“Confound it! I didn’t mean that.”
“Of course I could see he was some one who used to live here,” she went
on. “He knew father.”
Jim had thrust his hands deep into his trousers’ pockets. He uttered an
impatient ejaculation.
“And he said he should go out whenever he felt like it. He doesn’t like
the automobile.”
“Oh, it’s an impossible proposition. I see that plainly enough!” Jim
said, as if to himself. “But it seems a pity—”
He appeared to plunge into profound meditation.
“I say, Ellen, you like her; don’t you? ...Don’t see how you can help
it. She’s a wonder!”
“Who? Miss Orr?”
“Of course! Say, Ellen, if you knew what that girl has gone through,
without a murmur; and now I’m afraid— By George! we ought to spare
her.”
“We?”
“Yes; you and I. You can do a lot to help, Ellen, if you will. That old
man you saw is sick, hardly sane. And no wonder.”
He stopped short and stared fixedly at his companion.
“Did you guess who he was?” he asked abruptly.
Ellen reflected. “I can guess—if you’ll give me time.”
Jim made an impatient gesture. “That’s just what I thought,” he
growled. “There’ll be the devil to pay generally.”
“Jim,” said Ellen earnestly, “if we are to help her, you must tell me
all about that old man.”
“_She_ wanted to tell everybody,” he recollected gloomily. “And why not
you? Imagine an innocent child set apart from the world by another’s
crime, Ellen. See, if you can, that child growing up, with but one
thought, one ideal—the welfare of that other person. Picture to
yourself what it would be like to live solely to make a great wrong
right, and to save the wrongdoer. Literally, Ellen, she has borne that
man’s grief and carried his sorrow, as truly as any vaunted Saviour of
the world. Can you see it?”
“Do you mean—? Is _that_ why she calls it _Bolton_ House? Of course!
And that dreadful old man is— But, Jim, everybody will find it out.”
“You’re right,” he acknowledged. “But they mustn’t find it out just
yet. We must put it off till the man can shake that hang-dog air of
his. Why, he can’t even walk decently. Prison is written all over him.
Thank God, she doesn’t seem to see it!”
“I’m so glad you told me, Jim,” said Ellen gently.
“You won’t say a word about this, will you, Ellen?” he asked anxiously.
“I can depend on you?”
“Give me a little credit for decency and common sense,” replied Ellen.
Jim bent over the wheel and kissed her.