"Yes, he was in here some time last week," answered Hale calmly.
"Was it Wednesday, or Tuesday--that load of old almanacs was
delivered that same afternoon."
"Well, I'm a friend of his." Betty almost stuttered in her eagerness
to explain before the old man should be lost again in his book. "He
worked on the farm where I spent the summer, and he told me about you
and how anxious he was to see you and find out about his people. I've
been anxious, too, to learn if he reached Washington and whether he
is here now. Do you know?"
Now that the shopkeeper's mind was fairly detached from his printed
page he seemed to be more interested in his caller, and though he did
not offer to get Betty a chair, he looked about him vaguely as though
he might be seeking a place for her to sit.
"I don't mind standing. I mustn't stay long," she said hurriedly,
afraid to let him fix his attention on outside objects. "Didn't Bob
Henderson say where he was going? Did he mention anything about
leaving Washington?"
"Well, now let me see," considered the old man. "Bob Henderson? Oh,
yes, I recollect now how he looked--a manly lad with a frank face.
Yes, yes, his mother was Faith Henderson, born a Saunders.
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