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"Are you going back to the city soon?" "In the course of a week or two. Mr. Leavitt's son is in a store in Boston, is he not?" "Yes. I have taken his place in the shop." "By the way, I saw you in Merrill's this evening." "Yes; I was pricing an overcoat." "I bought this one in Boston just before I came away. I have a very good one left from last winter but it is too small for me.
She paid no heed to Lakalatcha's gigantic, smoke-belching cone, but, with fingers gripping the rail, scanned the forbidding and inscrutable forest, behind which lay the answer to her torturing doubt. I acceded to her wish without protest. Leavitt's bungalow lay a quarter of a mile distant. There would be no difficulty in following the path.
"Why, surely, Miss Stanleigh," I burst forth, "there can't be any reasonable doubt. Leavitt's mind may be a little flighty he may have embroidered his story with a few gratuitous details; but Farquharson's books and things the material evidence of his having lived there " "And having died there?" "Surely Leavitt wouldn't have fabricated that! If you had talked with him "
But for the last three or four months, since the two girls migrated together into Mantles, Logan had been conspicuously absent. Apparently he had not invented a cloak as well as a toy! Win no longer connected Lily Leavitt's occasional invitations with him.
I must speak to him," said Miss Stanleigh. "One might think he were deliberately hiding," I muttered, for I was at a loss to account for Leavitt's absence. "Then find him," the girl commanded. I cut short my speculations to direct Williams to search the hut in the rear of the bungalow, where, behind bamboo palings, Leavitt's Malay servant maintained an aloof and mysterious existence.
I confessed aloud that I did not see how it could. If by any chance the girl's secret conjecture about Leavitt's identity was right, it would be verified in the mere act of coming face to face with him, and in that event it would be just as well to spare the unsuspecting aunt the shock of that discovery.
"I have no doubt this is quite correct, but I shall have to have Mr. Leavitt's certificate to that effect, before I can put your name down, and trust you with books." "Then can't I take any book to-night?" asked Harry, disappointed. "I am afraid not." So it seemed his two-mile walk was for nothing. He must retrace his steps and come again Monday night. He was turning away disappointed when Dr.
Leavitt most of all." "A queer chap," I epitomized him. "Frankly, I don't quite make him out, Miss Stanleigh marooning himself on that infernal island and seemingly content to spend his days there." "Is he so old?" she caught me up quickly. "No, he isn't," I reflected. "Of course, it's difficult to judge ages out here. The climate, you know. Leavitt's well under forty, I should say.
Leavitt's chestnut-tinted hair that she had piled up in slick coils under the bonnet, and a third was runnin' a tape over her skillful. If it had been anybody but Mrs. Sallie Leavitt, I'd have hated to take chances on havin' to write the check when it was all over. "Well, is she coming?" asks Sadie that night. "Search me," says I. "I wouldn't bet a nickel either way." That was Wednesday.
Some of the geological specimens had tumbled from the table to the floor, and stray sheets of Leavitt's manuscripts lay under his chair. Leavitt's books, ranged on shelving against the wall, alone seemed undisturbed. Upon the top of the shelving stood two enormous stuffed birds, moldering and decrepit, regarding the sudden illumination with unblinking, bead-like eyes.
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