"When do you expect Mr. Matthews?" Miss Ri asked the boy, who was watching them curiously.

"Oh, not for a week or more. He told me to hold down the office till he came, so I'm keeping the lid on the best I know how. I don't see any papers marked for you, Miss Ri." He looked around on the shelves at some dusty collections.

"No? Well, never mind; we can see about it later. Suppose we slip that card and necktie back, Mr. Jeffreys? Thank you, Billy, for letting us come up." Everyone in town was known to Miss Ri, as she was known to everyone.

Once out in the street, Miss Ri gave voice to her conjectures. "Of course, Mr. Jeffreys, we can be positive now, don't you think?"

"One might suppose so, only that I have been thinking I may have given Matthews one of my cards which I chanced to have with me, and he has stuffed it into his valise along with other things which may have no connection with me whatever. I can't exactly believe it is proof positive."

"But the cravat?"

"Almost anyone might have a blue spotted tie like that. No, Miss Hill; I can't say I think it wise to jump at the conclusion."

"Oh, dear me, the masculine mind does work more deliberately than ours, doesn't it? At all events, I think it is something to go on, if not absolute proof. Let me see; first the trunk with the same initials, next the cravat, then the card. One doesn't expect to meet three such coincidences and gain no result, does one? Eliminate two, and you still have one pretty good proof, I should say. What are you going to do next, pending Berk's return? You surely don't mean to sit down and twiddle your thumbs?"

"No, hardly. I think I will go up to the city and interview the express people. If this is really my trunk, it may be superfluous to make the trip, but it will give me something to do, and may bring about some satisfactory conclusion."

"It isn't a bad move," returned Miss Ri. "You know the date, I suppose, and no doubt they have some record."

"That is what I am hoping for. If I only knew the number, which they must have marked on the trunk, it would help."

"How would it do to follow up Berk? You could probably find out where the judge is going; it may be his family can tell. Suppose we stop by and see what Mrs. Baker can tell us?"

But the Baker family were all in the city and that clue was dropped. Then the two returned to Miss Ri's and bethought themselves of getting Berkley on the telephone, but this, too, failed. He had been to the hotel, in a certain little town, which they called up, but had departed. Where was he going next? "Couldn't say."

"That clips off one thread," said Miss Ri, putting down the receiver. "You'd better go to town, after all. It will keep you occupied, and it is always a relief to be doing something, when one must wait. You'd get there quicker by taking the train, but the boat is cheaper, and I don't know that you would gain anything by starting earlier, for it would be too late to accomplish anything if you did get in this evening. You'll report progress, of course, when you get back?"

"Surely."

Miss Ri watched him depart, and then sat for a long time pondering over the situation. Why should she interest herself in a stranger? And supposing it were so that he found his papers and proved his claim, mightn't that mean loss to Linda; or if not to her, to someone they all had known as a neighbor? It might possibly be Talbot's Angles. No, that couldn't be, thought Miss Ri, for everyone knows it belonged to Jim Talbot and his father before him. Well, it is all very puzzling, and Linda may yet have her chance. Grace is just the silly kind of pretty woman to attract some blind bat of a man. There comes my girlie; I must tell her all the news. "It's the greatest comfort in the world to have someone in the house I can gossip to," she said as Linda entered. "I don't know what I did before you came."

"Stepped out the back way to Miss Parthy."

"Yes, that is just what I did; but fond as I am of Parthy Turner, there are subjects I would rather not discuss with her, to say nothing of the plague of finding a man in the way whenever I go over there nowadays. Tired, are you?"

"Not so very. If I am half the comfort to you that you are to me, Aunt Ri, I am very glad."

"So we are mutually satisfied; that is good. Lie down there on the sofa till dinner is ready, and I'll tell you what I've been doing."

Linda obeyed, and Miss Ri gave an account of the pursuit of clues, ending up with, "Now, what do you think of it?"

"I think it is very remarkable, to say the least, and I am inclined to believe with you that the trunk Berk bought is really Mr. Jeffreys'. Aunt Ri, do you suppose Berk could have found that out? I don't see why he shouldn't have made the discovery as soon as he opened it, in which case I think he ought to have notified Mr. Jeffreys at once."

"My dear, I don't for a moment think that of Berk. He is too honest and straightforward, and besides, what would be his object?"

"I don't know; yet, if he removed the papers, how could he help seeing whose they were? They must have been marked in some way to identify them."

"I don't believe he noticed them at all."

"Wouldn't you have done so?"

"I am a woman, and a woman always notices details more quickly than a man. Don't be suspicious, Verlinda."

"I'm not; but I can't help conjecturing."

"It isn't worth while to do even that till the two come back. We will nab Berk as soon as he gets here and have it settled. I don't know when anything so exciting has occurred in this town, and to think it concerns you, too. We mustn't let it get out, or the whole place will be agog. That young man is right to keep his affairs to himself."

But in spite of Miss Ri's intention to nab Berkley Matthews as soon as he returned, that opportunity was not accorded her, for though she called up his office daily, he arrived one evening and was off again the next day, unfortunately making his call at Miss Ri's when neither she nor Linda was at home. Mrs. Becky Hill had come to town and had carried off Miss Ri, willy-nilly, to look at a horse which Mrs. Becky thought of buying. When Miss Ri returned from the five-mile drive, Phebe met her at the door, saying, "Mr. Matthews done been hyar whilst yuh away, Miss Ri. He lef' a note on de table in de settin'-room."

Miss Ri was reading the note when Linda came in. "Now isn't this hard luck?" exclaimed the older woman. "Becky came in this afternoon and nothing would do but I must be dragged off to Hillside to see about a horse she has an idea of buying. She wanted my advice, as if I were a horse-dealer and spent my time looking in horses' mouths to count their teeth."

"Didn't you have a pleasant drive? It is a lovely day," returned Linda.

"Oh, it was pleasant enough; I really enjoyed it, but it made me miss Berk Matthews. Here's a note from him saying he was sorry not to find us at home and that he is going off duck-shooting down the bay. Isn't that provoking?"

"It surely is. Does he say anything about the trunk?"

"Not a syllable."

"Nor when he will be back?"

"Not a word. Here read for yourself."

Linda took the hastily-scribbled note, written in the rather cramped, lawyer-like handwriting which she had come to know as Berkley's:

"Sorry not to see you. Am off for some duck-shooting. I will bring a brace to you and we'll eat them together, allowing Linda the bones to pick.

"In haste,

"Berk."

That was all.

"It sounds very like Berk," said Linda, "and it doesn't seem possible that he could be keeping away on purpose. Mr. Jeffreys will be very much disappointed, I am afraid."

"Of course, it is not on purpose. What an idea, Verlinda! All the men go duck-shooting this time of year; it's about all the amusement they get in this part of the world. You wouldn't deprive him of it?"

"Yes, I would; for I don't like even ducks to be killed. However, I suppose it is inevitable."

"Of course it is inevitable while ducks fly over the waters of the bay. For my part, I like to see the lads go off in their shooting clothes, with their dogs and their guns. Ducks can't live forever, and if we don't eat them, something else will."

"If they were all killed outright, I shouldn't care so much; for, of course, they are intended for food, but I can't bear to think of their only being wounded and of their suffering, perhaps, for days."

"You have too tender a heart, Verlinda, for a girl who has been brought up in a hunting community."

"Perhaps that is the very reason; because I have seen something of what it means to the poor ducks. Have you seen Mr. Jeffreys? He was to have returned this morning."

"No, I haven't seen him. I'll call up Parthy and find out if he has returned. If he has, I'll ask her to send him over."

"Do you want to do that?"

"Why not?"

Linda did not give any reason, and Miss Ri went to the 'phone. Mr. Jeffreys himself answered it, and promised to come over immediately.

He was met by the question: "What report?"

"Not much of any account. I went to see the express people," he told them, "and they admitted that there were such things as drunken drivers who might hand over orders to others who, in turn, would maybe deliver a trunk to the wrong place; that had sometimes happened. And if the trunk were not marked, or if the tag were torn, there would be little chance of its reaching the proper owner, unless he held the express company's receipt. So I came away with nothing more than a warning not to trust any but the regular expressmen, and that is about all the satisfaction I could get."

"Too bad!" declared Miss Ri. "And now, I suppose you know Berk is off duck-shooting, and that is another delay for you."

"Yes, I heard about that. I went to the hotel, but couldn't very well ask to be allowed to break into his room, where the trunk probably is; and Billy would think me a most suspicious character, if I asked for a second view of the valise. I am beginning to think that, after all, we have made a mistake, and that he has not my property at all, or he surely would have notified me."

"It does look that way, and it is very provoking to be kept in suspense. I will tell you what I will do. If you can't get into Berk's room, I can. I know the proprietor of the Jackson House, and his wife, as well; so I am sure I can manage. I'll make an effort this very afternoon. Berk won't mind when I tell him and he learns it was in a good cause. I will bring away a pile of stockings to mend, and that will be an excellent excuse. I can make a strict examination of the trunk and bring you an accurate description, so if there are any identifying marks, I can tell you. How will that do?"

"Miss Hill, you are a miracle of ingenuity. That is a great scheme."

Miss Ri looked up at the clock. "It isn't so late. I believe I will go now. No time like the present. You can stay here with Linda till I get back. I won't be long."

"Isn't she wonderful?" said Mr. Jeffreys, looking after the stout figure admiringly. "She is so direct, and so initiative. A woman like that is a friend worth having. I liked her from the moment I saw her out in this old garden."

Linda warmed to the praise of her friend. She was somewhat annoyed at Berkley's readiness to allow other matters to interfere with his visits to the house, and with his attention to Mr. Jeffreys' affairs. She felt sorry for the young man who, like herself, was lonely and bereft. She was too tender-hearted not to show sympathy for anyone so unfortunate, and she was very gentle in her manner toward him, so the two sat there talking of those personal things which draw those with similar interests together, and Miss Ri's absence seemed a very short one.

She came in flushed and panting from a rapid walk, a bundle of stockings, done up in newspaper, under her arm, and in her hand a bit of paper which she laid triumphantly on the table. It was getting dark, and she called for lights, as she threw aside her wraps. "Find the matches, Verlinda, and get Mr. Jeffreys to light the gas. I really think I have found something worth while."

While Linda was searching for the matches, Mr. Jeffreys had taken the bit of paper to the window and was examining it by the waning light. He came back to take the matches from Linda's hand and to say, "Miss Hill, I really think you have brought me proof positive."

"Wait till we get a light," she returned.

Another moment furnished this, and then, under the lighted chandelier, he showed them the paper, a piece of a tag from which more than half had been torn. That remaining showed but four letters, though they were enough. "You see here," said Mr. Jeffreys, "on this first line was W. B. Jeffreys. The W. B., in my handwriting, remains. On the second line was Sandbridge, of which the S alone is left. The third line showed Md., and you see not quite all of the M. I would swear to it in any court."

"Which will not be necessary, as no doubt you have the trunk key and can describe the contents."

"Tell us how you managed, Aunt Ri," urged Linda.

"Well, first I hunted up Mrs. Beall, told her I wanted to get some of Berk's socks to mend in order to surprise him; so she told the chambermaid to open his room for me. I hunted out the holey socks and then I turned my attention to the trunk. There it sat with its J. S. D. as plain as day. It was locked and, of course, I couldn't get at the inside; but on one of the handles I saw this piece of tag hanging, so I took it off and brought it away. Of course, I examined it and came to my own conclusions, which were the same as yours, Mr. Jeffreys. So now, let me congratulate you. Since there seems no doubt but that you have found your trunk, the waiting for Berk will not be so trying."

"I congratulate you, too," added Linda, holding out her hand.

"Thank you," replied the young man, taking Miss Ri's proffered hand rather than Linda's, and then turning somewhat confusedly to examine again the piece of paper.

But, as if to make up for this seeming rudeness, for the next few days he was rarely absent from the house when Linda was there. He was at the gate when she started forth to school; he was at the corner to join her when she came home. Supper was scarcely over before his step was heard upon the porch, and if there was no open love-making, there was at least a sufficient show of interest to make the girl feel that no word of hers passed unnoticed.

"I believe the man is falling in love with you," averred Miss Ri bluntly, when he left them one evening; "if he is not already there."

Linda flushed, but replied steadily: "You must remember that I am a relative, and naturally he turns to me for sympathy and advice. The poor fellow has neither mother nor sister, and, of course—"

"Take care, Verlinda. That 'poor fellow' sounds very dangerous. You know what pity is akin to."

But Linda did not reply. She turned out the light by the piano, busied herself in straightening the room, and then, kissing Miss Ri good-night, went directly upstairs. She stood a long time before her mirror, thoughtfully gazing at the reflection she saw there, and after she had turned out her light, she went to the window which opened upon the back garden, looking across to where a twinkling beam shone out from Miss Parthy's house. "It is rather nice to have a new cousin," she said to herself, as she drew down the shade again and turned to open a window further away from her bed.

On the other side of the entry, Miss Ri, in her room, was frowning and saying savagely to herself: "Maria Hill, you are an idiot. It is just like you to be carried away by some new excitement, never looking far enough ahead to discover what it is all leading to. I say you are an idiot, and you are not the only one, if the truth were known."