"Ahem!" said Nancy, clearing her throat a little. She had come inside and closed the door, and it seemed that Mr. Gordon was giving her no attention.

Then she chanced to look up and, on the wall beyond the desk, was a broad mirror tilted so that the lawyer needed but to raise his eyes to see reflected in the gla.s.s all that went on behind him.

And in that gla.s.s Nancy got her first glimpse of Henry Gordon's face.

It was really something more than a glimpse. The lawyer was evidently staring at her--had been doing so for some seconds. His great, broad, unwrinkled countenance seemed to have paled on her first appearance, for now the color was washing back into it in a wave of faint pink--a ruddy hue that was natural to so full-bodied a man.

"Come here, girl!"

The voice that rumbled out of Mr. Gordon's throat was commensurate with his bulk. He slowly turned his chair upon its pivot. Trembling, Nancy made her way across the rug to the corner of his desk.

All of a sudden every bit of courage she had plucked up, was swept away.

She felt a queer emptiness within her. And in her throat a lump had risen so big that she could not swallow.

CHAPTER V

NANCY'S CURIOUS EXPERIENCE

Mr. Gordon's eyes were brown. They were heavy-lidded so that Nancy could see very little of their expression. He was a smoothly-shaven man and his thick lips seemed grim.

"You--you are the girl?" demanded the lawyer.

"Yes--yes, sir," she said. "I'm Nancy Nelson."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? HAVE YOU RUN AWAY?"]

"What are you doing here? Have you run away?" he shot at her, accentuating the query with a pointed forefinger.

Afterward she realized that that impaling index finger was a gesture of habit--it was his way of "spearing" witnesses in court when they were under fire.

"No, sir," replied Nancy, with more confidence.

"How do you come here, then?"

"I am on my way to Clintondale."

"Clintondale?"

"Pinewood Hall, you know. There--there is a four-hour wait here at Cincinnati, you know."

"I did _not_ know," he rumbled forth. Then, like a flash, he demanded: "Who sent you here?"

This question took the last breath of wind out of Nancy's sails. She had, through it all, believed that he might be glad to see her. But now she realized that the opposite was the truth.

"n.o.body sent me," she stammered.

"Not the woman at the other school--Miss--Miss Prentice?"

"No, sir. She does not know. I--I just wanted to see you."

"What for?" he asked, in the same sudden, gruff way.

"I--I thought you might want to see _me_, too," she hedged. "You--you know guardians usually _do_ want to see their wards."

"Ha! who told you that I was your guardian?"

"No--no one; but you are, sir?" she questioned, fearfully.

"No, Miss. I am not."

"Then--then you only _act_ for my guardian?"

He looked straight at her, and steadily, for several moments, without speaking. Nancy could learn nothing from his expression.

"I do not know that, legally speaking or otherwise, you have a guardian," he finally said.

"But--but----"

"Money pa.s.ses through my hands for your support and schooling. That is all I can tell you. I am _not_ your guardian."

"Oh, but surely!" cried the greatly perturbed girl, "you know something about me?"

"I know what your teachers have reported. They say you are fairly intelligent, remarkably healthy, and quite obedient."

"Oh, sir!"

"I consider _this_ a flagrant case of disobedience. Don't let it happen again," pursued Mr. Gordon, sternly.

"But, sir! I cannot help it," cried poor Nancy, the tears now beginning to flow. "I feel sometimes as though I couldn't _live_ unless I learned something about myself--who I am--who my folks were--why I am being educated--who is paying for it, and all----"

"You would better smother your curiosity," interrupted Mr. Gordon, the fat fingers of one hand playing a noiseless tattoo upon the edge of his desk. "I can tell you nothing."

"You are forbidden to tell?" gasped the girl.

"I know nothing, therefore I cannot tell. You came to me anonymously--that is, your ident.i.ty aside from the name you bear was unknown to me. The money which supports you comes to me anonymously."

"Oh!" The girl's real pain and disappointment were evident even to the case-hardened lawyer. He was silent while she sobbed with her eyes against her coat-sleeve. But no change of expression came into the face that, for long years, he had trained to hide emotion before juries and witnesses.

"I might have refused the task set me years ago when--when I introduced you into Miss Prentice's school," he said, at last. "I might have gone to the authorities and handed you over to them--money and all. To what end? I was a.s.sured that no further money would be devoted to your up-keep and education. You would then have had no better chance than that of any foundling in a public charitable inst.i.tution. Not so nice; eh?"

"Oh!" exclaimed the girl again, looking at him now through her tears.

"So I accepted the responsibility--as I accept many responsibilities in the way of business. It is nothing personal to me. I am paid a certain sum for handling the money devoted to your support. That is all."

The girl asked a strange question--strange for one so young, at least.