Little Lost Sister Part 3

ENTER A DETECTIVE

While Harvey Spencer was climbing down from his wagon Mr. Michael Grogan, who was not exactly the guileless soul Millville took him to be, permitted himself rather a close inspection of the Welcome premises.

There was nothing imposing about them. The cottage was old and obviously in need of repair. The fence which surrounded it had been repaired in places, apparently by someone who had small interest in the job. The little patch of ground in front, however, was decorated with a neatly kept vegetable garden bordered with flowers. The stone step at the cottage entrance was immaculate. Mr. Grogan was shrewd enough to indulge himself in the speculation that whatever Tom Welcome might be his wife was a careful housekeeper.

Mrs. Welcome was standing in her open door and Grogan studied her with a curiosity not entirely disinterested. Her figure was frail and slightly bowed. Her hair, as it showed in the deepening dusk was almost white. Her features had delicacy like those of the daughter Grogan had just met. She was wiping her hands on a gingham ap.r.o.n. They were hands of a hard working woman.

"h.e.l.lo, Mrs. Welcome, nice day, ain't it?" called Harvey as he came through the gate.

"Yes, it is nice, isn't it, Harvey?" replied Martha Welcome. "I hadn't noticed it before, I've been so busy with the was.h.i.+ng."

The woman's voice, Mr. Grogan noted, held a note of sadness.

"Seems to me," said Harvey, dropping his voice and speaking with the a.s.surance of an old family friend, "that if I had two girls like your Elsie and Patience, I'd see that they helped out with the was.h.i.+ng."

"How can they help me?" replied Mrs. Welcome. "Patience is up early every morning and off to Mr. Price's store and Elsie is at the mill all day."

"That's so," said Harvey, "I didn't think, but surely they might--"

"Oh, they help a lot," broke in Mrs. Welcome, hurriedly. "They do all their ironing at night. And that's all anyone could ask of them after they come home tired from their work."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. Your two girls always do look nice."

"Thank you, Harvey."

"But Mrs. Welcome--"

"Yes, Harvey?"

"Don't you think--" Harvey stopped and looked about hesitatingly,--"Ah, don't you think it would be just as well if Elsie didn't see quite as much of this Chicago fellow?"

"Do you mean Mr. Druce?" inquired Mrs. Welcome.

"I do. Of course, he's all right--" Harvey again hesitated and puckered his lips thoughtfully. "He wears fine clothing, patent leather shoes, sports a diamond ring, but it seems to me Elsie's different somehow since that Martin Druce began to hang around."

Mrs. Welcome laughed softly. There was a glint of humor in her eyes. "I guess you're jealous, aren't you, Harvey?"

"Well, say I am," agreed Harvey. "Never mind that. Is it a good thing for Elsie?"

"Elsie's a good girl," replied Mrs. Welcome.

"She sure is, Mrs. Welcome. That's why I want her to be Mrs. Harvey Spencer."

Mrs. Welcome opened her eyes wide at this statement and looked kindly at the stout young man before her.

"You mean it, Harvey?" she demanded.

"I'm so much in earnest," he replied, fumbling in his pocket, "that I've got the ring right here."

He produced a plain gold wedding ring nestling in a white velvet case.

Mrs. Welcome uttered a little cry of gladness. She believed in Harvey, who, incidentally, was all he pretended to be.

"O, I know I ain't much," went on Harvey, "just a clerk in a small town store, but I've got ambitions. Look at all the great men! Where did they begin? At the bottom."

Harvey paused. Then he looked all about him carefully and, satisfied with this survey, leaned confidentially toward Mrs. Welcome and whispered:

"Say, can you keep a secret, Mrs. Welcome?"

"I guess so," replied Mrs. Welcome smiling. "Try me, Harvey."

"All right, I'm going to be a detective," Harvey announced proudly.

"You are, Harvey?" was the astonished reply.

"Just watch me," Harvey went on. "I'm taking a correspondence school course. Here are some of my lessons." He took some closely typewritten sheets of paper from his pocket. "Ever notice how broad I am between the eyes?" he demanded.

"I can't say that I have," said Mrs. Welcome.

"Well, I am, and it's one of the signs, so they say, of the born detective. Listen here a moment."

He unfolded the bulky pages and read grandly:

"'Always be observant of even the smallest trifles. A speck of dust may be an important clew to a murder.'"

"Harvey!" cried Mrs. Welcome.

"Don't be frightened, Mrs. Welcome, just wanted to show you that I mean business." Harvey paused for a moment and regarded her steadily. Then he pointed his finger at her accusingly as he said: "I knew you were was.h.i.+ng before you told me!"

"You did, Harvey?"

"Sure, because you had suds on your ap.r.o.n where you dried your hands." He drew a deep sigh and threw out his chest. "There," he said. "Oh, I guess I'm bad at these lessons, eh?"

"You're a good boy, Harvey," replied Mrs. Welcome, indulgently.

"Thank you." He bowed. "Oh, perhaps my future mother-in-law and I aren't going to get along fine," he announced to the world in general, exultingly.

The roan colt interrupted this rhapsody by pawing impatiently at the ground. Harvey took his order book from his pocket and stuck his stub of lead pencil in his mouth.

"Well," he inquired, "how about orders, Mrs. Welcome?"

"We--we--need some flour," was the hesitating reply.

"A barrel?" suggested Harvey, turning to a fresh page of his order book.

"No--no--no--I--I guess ten pounds, and--I guess that's about all, Harvey."

"Now you'll excuse me if I doubt your word, Mrs. Welcome," said Harvey, writing down fifty pounds of flour quickly. "Come now, tell me what you do really want."