"Have you sufficient money?"

"I have nearly ten dollars," said Nancy.

"And I have half as much," added Jennie.

"Here is twenty more," said the Madame, putting it into Nancy's hand.

"Your guardian, Mr. Gordon, has always left a sum for emergencies in my hand. It seems he has been very liberal. I hope, Nancy, that you will find him not so seriously injured as the circ.u.mstances seem to suggest."

She kissed them both warmly and went to the hall door with them.

"Get their tickets and see them aboard the train. Speak to the conductor about them, Samuel," she said to the under gardener.

"Indeed I will, Madame," replied the good fellow.

As they rattled down to the lodge gates, the door of the little cottage opened and Jessie Pease hurried out in her night wrapper.

"Wait! Wait, Samuel!" she called, and held up a little basket. "You'll be hungry on the train, girls. Some chicken sandwiches, and olives, and odds and ends that I managed to pick up after the Madame telephoned to me about your trouble.

"I hope it isn't so bad as it looks, Nancy. And take care of her, Janie--that's a good la.s.sie!"

"Oh! aren't folks just _good_!" exclaimed Nancy to her chum, as Samuel drove on. "It just seems as though they _do_ like me a little."

"Huh! everybody's crazy about you, Nance! You ought to know that,"

returned Jennie. "I don't see what a girl who's made so many friends needs of a family--or of money, either. Don't worry."

But Nancy wiped a few tears away. Never before had she appreciated the fact that here at Pinewood Hall she had made many dear and loving friends. "Miss n.o.body from Nowhere" was just as important as anybody else in the whole school.

Samuel drove almost recklessly through the streets of Clintondale in order to make the night train that stopped but a moment at the station.

They were in good season, however, and the man put them, with their bags and the basket, aboard.

It would not have paid to engage sleeping berths at that hour. The two girls had comfortable seats, and of course, were too excited to wish to sleep. Jennie proceeded to open the lunch basket at once, however.

"No knowing when we'll get a chance to eat again," declared Nancy's lively chum, who was enjoying to the full the opening of this strange campaign.

What should they first do when they reached the city? Would the hotel be open so early in the morning? Would Scorch be at the station to meet them?

And this question brought Nancy to another thought. Scorch had not been communicated with.

So she wrote a reply to his message, saying that she and Jennie, were coming to Cincinnati and were then on the train, and had the brakeman file it for sending at the first station beyond Clintondale at which the train stopped.

She addressed it to Scorch O'Brien's home, believing that it might reach him more quickly in that way. She did not suppose that the red-haired youth would be allowed to remain at Garvan's Hotel over night.

As it chanced, it was a very good thing Nancy Nelson sent this message, and addressed it as she did. But, of course, neither she nor Jennie Bruce suspected how important the matter was at the time.

And, within a few minutes, something else gripped the attention of the girls. They were discussing Jessie's chicken sandwiches, "and other odds and ends," when a man walked down the aisle of the rocking coach toward them.

"Oh, look, Nance!" whispered Jennie.

Nancy looked up. The towering figure of a man dressed in a gray suit, with hat and gloves to match, stopped suddenly beside them. It was Senator Montgomery, Grace Montgomery's father.

"Hul-_lo_!" he muttered, evidently vastly surprised to see the girls in the train bound for Cincinnati.

"How do you do?" said Nancy, softly.

"Yes! you're the girl. I thought I was not mistaken," spoke the Senator, and although he frowned he seemed to wish to speak pleasantly. "You go to the same school as my daughter?"

"Yes, sir."

"Pinewood Hall?"

"Yes, sir," repeated Nancy.

"What is your name?"

"Nancy Nelson."

"I thought I could not be mistaken." The frown was gone from his face now and his sly eyes twinkled in what was meant to be a jovial way.

"You girls are not running away, I suppose?"

"Oh, no, sir," said Nancy, timidly.

"What is the matter, then?" he asked, quickly. He held a folded paper in his hand which he had evidently been reading.

"My----A gentleman who looks after me has been hurt and I am going to him," responded Nancy, hesitatingly. "They have telegraphed for me."

It seemed as though the Senator's face paled. "You don't mean to say he sent word to _you_?" he demanded.

"Oh, no! not Mr. Gordon."

The Senator's face became suddenly animated again. He smote one hand heavily upon the chair back.

"Not my old friend, Henry Gordon--a lawyer?"

"Yes, sir."

"I saw he was hurt. Why! I myself am going to Cincinnati for the special purpose of seeing if he really is seriously ill!"

"Indeed, sir?"

"Quite so," declared the Senator. "And he sent for _you_? I didn't know he had a relative living, my dear."

"No," explained Nancy. "It was Scorch who sent for me."

"Scorch?"

"Mr. Gordon's office boy."

"Humph!"