"It was that boy you are guardeen of."
"What, Harry Vane?" ejaculated Fox, in genuine surprise.
"Tell me all about it, Mrs. Brock."
"Well, you see, he ran into my yard all out of breath, and grabbin' a
red tablecloth from the line, asked me if I would lend it to him.
'Land sakes!' says I, 'what do you want of a tablecloth?'"
"'The track's washed away,' he said, 'and I want to signal the train.
There's danger of an accident.' Of course, I let him have it, and he
did signal the train, standin' on the fence, and wavin' the
tablecloth. So the train was saved!"
"And did he bring back the tablecloth?"
"Of course, he did, and that wasn't all. He brought me a ten-dollar
bill to pay for the use of it."
"Gave you a ten-dollar bill!" exclaimed John Fox, in amazement. "That
was very wrong."
"You hadn't no claim on the money if you are his guardeen. A
collection was took up by the passengers, and given to the boy, and he
thought I ought to have pay for use of the tablecloth, so he gave me a
ten-dollar bill--and a little gentleman he is, too."
"A collection taken up for my ward?" repeated Fox, pricking up his
ears. "Well, well! that is news."
John Fox was already on his way back to the road. He was anxious to
find his ward.
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