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Sherwood was at the station to meet the train when it finally steamed into Tillbury. Owneyville, which the girls knew to be Mr. Bulson's home town, was a station beyond Tillbury, and a much smaller town. The fat man had to change cars, so it was not surprising that he stepped down upon the Tillbury platform just as Nan ran into her father's arms. "Oh, Papa Sherwood!" Nan almost sobbed.
Belongs to Ravell Bulson, Jr., Owneyville, Illinois. Make a note of it." "Sure!" Jim said. "Say! that's a funny thing," put in another man, who wore the lettered cap of the express company. "I've been looking over my way-bill, Carter, and a man named Ravell Bulson of that same address has shipped a package to himself from the Bancroft Creamery siding, up above Freeling.
She had long-since learned that family affairs were not to be discussed out of the family circle. It was bad enough, so she thought, to have Tillbury and Owneyville people discussing the accusation of Ravell Bulson, without telling all the trouble to her friends here in Chicago. Enough had been said on the previous evening, Nan thought, about the matter.
He stooped down and brought his light to bear upon the tag wired to the top of the crate. "Ravell Bulson, Jr., Owneyville, Illinois," he read aloud, making a note of it in his book. "Oh!" ejaculated Nan. "Oh!" repeated Bess. Then both together the chums gasped: "That fat man!" "Hullo!" observed the conductor, slipping the toggles out of the hasp, which kept the door of the dog crate closed.
He had a reputation in his home town of Owneyville of being a quarrelsome man, and was not well liked by his neighbors. Nevertheless a venomous tongue can do a great deal of harm, and a spiteful enemy may sometimes bring about a greater catastrophe than a more powerful adversary. "Now! what do you know about this?" Bess Harley demanded, with considerable vexation.
And, now that his face was revealed, the chums recognized Mr. Ravell Bulson, the man who had spoken so harshly of Nan's father the day of the collision on Pendragon Hill. "Say! this is the expressman, I guess," pursued Mr. Bulson. "You're the man I really want to see. You'll see my name on that box 'R. Bulson, Owneyville, Illinois. That's me.
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