onse to the tears in Cordelia's eyes.
"Now wait while I get my hat and ask Aunt Julia. She'll let me go, I
know;--she'd let me go to--to London, with _you_."

"Just please say it's an errand--an important one," begged Cordelia,
nervously, as Genevieve darted into the house.

In two minutes the girl had returned, hat in hand.

"Now tell me all about it," she commanded, "and don't look so
frightened. Hermit Joe isn't cross. He's only solemn and queer. He won't
hurt us."

"Oh, no, he won't hurt us," sighed the other. "He'll only look more
solemn and queer."

"Why?"

"Because of what I've got to tell him. I--I suppose I ought to have
written it, but I just couldn't. Besides, I hadn't found out anything,
and so I didn't want to write until I was sure I couldn't find anything.
Now it's done, and I haven't found out anything. So I've got to tell
him."

"Tell him what, Cordelia?" demanded Genevieve, a little impatiently.
"How do you suppose I can make anything out of that kind of talk?"

"O dear! you can't, of course," sighed Cordelia; "and, of course, if
I've told you so much I must tell the rest. It's Hermit Joe's son. I
can't find him."

"His son! I didn't know he had a son."

"He has. His name is John. He ran away to Texas twenty years ago."

"And you've been hunting for _him_, too--besides that Lester Goodwin who
turned out to be Reddy?"

Cordelia nodded. She did not speak.

Genevieve laughed unexpectedly.

"Of all the funny things I ever heard of! Pray, how many more lost
people have you been looking for in the little state of Texas?"

Cordelia moved her shoulders uneasily.

"I--I'd rather not tell that, please, Genevieve," she stammered, with a
painful blush.

Genevieve stared dumbly. She had not supposed for a moment that Cordelia
had been looking for any more lost people. She had asked the question
merely as an absurdity. To have it taken now in this literal fashion,
and evidently with good reason--Genevieve could scarcely believe the
evidence of her senses. Another laugh was almost on her lips, but the
real distress in Cordelia's face stopped it in time.

"You poor dear little thing," she cried sympathetically. "What a shame
to bother you so! I wonder you had any fun at all on the trip."

"Oh, but I did, Genevieve! You don't know how beautiful it all was to
me--only of course I felt sorry to be such a failure in what folks
wanted me to do. You see, Reddy was the only one I found, and I'm very