This Monday morning Bub appeared at the Lodge and had the car ready before Mr. Conant had finished his breakfast. Mary Louise decided to drive to Millbank with them, just for the pleasure of the trip, and although the boy evidently regarded her presence with distinct disapproval he made no verbal objection.
 
As Irene wheeled herself out upon the porch to see them start, Mary
Louise called to her:
 
"Here's your chair cushion, Irene, lying on the steps and quite wet with dew. I never supposed you could be so careless. And you'd better sew up that rip before it gets bigger," she added, handing the cushion to her friend.
 
"I will," Irene quietly returned.
 
Bub proved himself a good driver before they had gone a mile and it pleased Mr. Conant to observe that the boy made the trip down the treacherous mountain road with admirable caution. Once on the level, however, he "stepped on it," as he expressed it, and dashed past the Huddle and over the plain as if training for the Grand Prix.
 
It amused Mary Louise to watch their quaint little driver, barefooted and in blue-jeans and hickory shirt, with the heavy Scotch golf cap pulled over his eyes, taking his task of handling the car as seriously as might any city chauffeur and executing it fully as well.
 
During the trip the girl conversed with Mr. Conant.
 
"Do you remember our referring to an old letter, the other day?" she asked.
 
"Yes," said he.
 
"Irene found it in one of those secondhand books you bought in New
York, and she said it spoke of both my mother and my grandfather."
 
"The deuce it did!" he exclaimed, evidently startled by the information.
 
"It must have been quite an old letter," continued Mary Louise, musingly.
 
"What did it say?" he demanded, rather eagerly for the unemotional lawyer.
 
"I don't know. Irene wouldn't let me read it."
 
"Wouldn't, eh? That's odd. Why didn't you tell me of this before I left the Lodge?"
 
"I didn't think to tell you, until now. And, Uncle Peter, what, do you think of Miss Lord?"
 
"A very charming lady. What did Irene do with the letter?"
 
"I think she left it in the book; and—the book was stolen the very next day."
 
"Great Caesar! Who knew about that letter?"
 
"Miss Lord was present when Irene found the letter, and she heard Irene exclaim that it was all about my mother, as well as about my grandfather."
 
"Miss Lord?"
 
"Yes."
 
"And the book was taken by someone?"
 
"The next day. We missed it after—after Miss Lord had visited the den alone."
 
"Huh!"
 
He rode for awhile in silence.
 
"Really," he muttered, as if to himself, "I ought to go back. I ought not to take for granted the fact that this old letter is unimportant. However, Irene has read it, and if it happened to be of value I'm sure the girl would have told me about it."
 
"Yes, she certainly would have told you," agreed Mary Louise. "But she declared that even I would not be interested in reading it."
 
"That's the only point that perplexes me," said the lawyer.
"Just—that—one—point."
 
"Why?" asked the girl.
 
But Mr. Conant did not explain. He sat bolt upright on his seat, staring at the back of Bub's head, for the rest of the journey. Mary Louise noticed that his fingers constantly fumbled with the locket on his watch chain.
 
As the lawyer left the car at the station he whispered to Mary Louise:
 
"Tell Irene that I now know about the letter; and just say to her that I consider her a very cautious girl. Don't say anything more. And don't, for heaven's sake, suspect poor Miss Lord. I'll talk with Irene when I return on Friday."
 
On their way back Bub maintained an absolute silence until after they had passed the Huddle. Before they started to climb the hill road, however, the boy suddenly slowed up, halted the car and turned deliberately in his seat to face Mary Louise.
 
"Bein' as how you're a gal," said he, "I ain't got much use fer ye, an' that's a fact. I don't say it's your fault, nor that ye wouldn't 'a' made a pass'ble boy ef ye'd be'n borned thet way. But you're right on one thing, an' don't fergit I told ye so: thet woman at Bigbee's ain't on the square."
 
"How do you know?" asked Mary Louise, delighted to be taken into Bub's confidence—being a girl.
 
"The critter's too slick," he explained, raising one bare foot to the cushion beside him and picking a sliver out of his toe. "Her eyes ain't got their shutters raised. Eyes're like winders, but hers ye kain't see through. I don't know nuth'n' 'bout that slick gal at Bigbee's an' I don't want to know nuth'n'. But I heer'd what ye said to the boss, an' what he said to you, an' I guess you're right in sizin' the critter up, an' the boss is wrong."
 
With this he swung round again and started the car, nor did he utter another word until he ran the machine into the garage.
 
During Mary Louise's absence Irene had had a strange and startling experience with their beautiful neighbor. The girl had wheeled her chair out upon the bluff to sun herself and read, Mrs. Conant being busy in the house, when Agatha Lord strolled up to her with a smile and a pleasant "good morning."
 
"I'm glad to find you alone," said she, seating herself beside the wheeled chair. "I saw Mr. Conant and Mary Louise pass the Bigbee place and decided this would be a good opportunity for you and me to have a nice, quiet talk together. So I came over."
 
Irene's face was a bit disdainful as she remarked:
 
"I found the cushion this morning."
 
"What cushion do you refer to?" asked Agatha with a puzzled expression.
 
Irene frowned.
 
"We cannot talk frankly together when we are at cross purposes," she complained.
 
"Very true, my dear; but you seem inclined to speak in riddles."
 
"Do you deny any knowledge of my chair cushion!"
 
"I do."
 
"I must accept your statement, of course. What do you wish to say to me, Miss Lord?"
 
"I would like to establish a more friendly understanding between us. You are an intelligent girl and cannot fail to realize that I have taken a warm interest in your friend Mary Louise Burrows. I want to know more about her, and about her people, who seem to have cast her off. You are able to give me this information, I am sure, and by doing so you may be instr............