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Updated: July 23, 2025
"Why, Nancy dear, your old Uncle Steve, who stole you from us once, is not living. Don't you remember that, and besides, that man didn't look the least bit like him." "That man looked just like Bonfanti!" "Oh, oo," burst softly from Dorothy's lips, then she tried to comfort Nancy. "But why should he be wandering through the woods here?
Dorothy closed the door, and then, tossing her wraps upon the couch, sat down, Turkish fashion, on the rug beside her. "Now, Nancy," she said, "you're not to let that man you saw this afternoon make you so uneasy. It couldn't have been Professor Bonfanti who taught you to dance, and was so harsh with you. Why should he be out here, walking through the woods at Glenmore?
She told herself that the man certainly looked just like the old ballet-master, Bonfanti, but that he might have been a very different person.
"Indeed I do not," Dorothy said, firmly. "And oh, how glad I am that he is not Professor Bonfanti!" Nancy said. "It was silly to be so frightened, but if only you knew how hard those months were when he was training me, and old Uncle Steve was threatening all sorts of things if I did not dance well!
Again she told Dorothy how it had frightened her, adding: "He looked just like Bonfanti, the ballet-teacher, and I believe if I should look from our window and see him out there, looking toward this house, I'd not dare to go out for days." Dorothy tried to comfort her, by saying: "But, Nancy dear, we've not seen him since that day, and he's miles away from here by this time, as likely as not."
"To-day he was trying to decide just what sort of vine would thrive best on this sunny side of the house. His name is not nearly so picturesque as Bonfanti. It is Jonathan Scroggs. Not a fine name, surely, but his name has never hindered him in his profession. He is one of the best florists in the country, he knows all about beautiful vines and trees, and he is also a landscape gardener.
And even if really it had been Bonfanti, why would you be so frightened? It was your old uncle who stole you from us, and made you dance at the theaters to earn money for him. Bonfanti just taught you because your old Uncle Steve hired him to."
"I don't know which would be the worse to work for, Professor Bonfanti or my old Uncle Steve, but this I do know: I hope no one will ever take me away from you, Dorothy!" "And no one shall!" cried Dorothy, throwing her arms around Nancy, and holding her fast.
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