"Oh, dear me! If Momsey would only write to me that she is
really rich," thought Nan, "I'd beg her for the money. I'll tell
her all about poor Toby in my very next letter and maybe, if she
gets all that money from the courts in Scotland, she will let me
give Toby enough to pay off the mortgage."
She never for a moment doubted that Uncle Henry's contention
about the timber tract line was right. He must be correct, and
old Toby must know it! That is the way Nan Sherwood looked at
the matter.
But now, seeing Toby turning back along the corduroy road, and
slowly shuffling toward home, she stepped out of the hovering
bushes and walked hastily after him. She overtook him not many
yards beyond the spot where he had stood talking with Raffer. He
looked startled when she spoke his name.
"Well! You air a sight for sore eyes, Sissy," he said; but
added, nervously, "How in Joe Tunket did you git in the swamp?
Along the road?"
"Yes, sir," said Nan.
"Come right erlong this way?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did ye meet anybody?" demanded old Toby, eyeing her sharply.
"Mr. Raffer, driving his old buckskin horse. That's all."
"Didn't say nothin' to ye, did he?" asked Toby, curiously.
"Not a word," replied Nan, honestly.
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