The thought had stabbed her like a knife:

"What would you do if I should die? How would you tell those--those who send the money?"

If the lawyer hesitated it was but for a moment. And his huge face was a veritable mask.

"I should advertise in the personal column of a certain metropolitan newspaper--that is all," he declared.

"Then--then I'm just n.o.body, after all?" sighed the girl, wiping her eyes.

"Why--why--I wouldn't say that!" and for the first time a little human note came into Mr. Gordon's voice, and his pink face seemed to become less grim.

"But that's what I _am_--Miss n.o.body from Nowhere. I had no friends at Higbee School because of it; I'll have no standing at Pinewood Hall, either."

"Nonsense! nonsense!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr. Gordon, tapping his desk again.

"Girls who have homes--and folks--don't want to a.s.sociate with girls who come from nowhere and don't know anything about themselves."

"Well, well! That's a thought that had never entered my mind," said the lawyer, more to himself than to Nancy.

"You see how it is, sir. I thought there might be an estate, maybe. I thought maybe that, as so much money was being spent for me--I might be of some importance somewhere----"

"Ha!" exclaimed the lawyer, still staring at her.

"But now you say there's n.o.body--and nothing. Just money comes--comes out of the air for me. And you pa.s.s it on. Oh, dear me! it's very mysterious, sir."

He said nothing, but still looked at her.

"And you're not even my guardian! I hoped when I went to Pinewood and the girls began to get curious, I could talk about you," confessed Nancy, plaintively. "I thought maybe, if you even weren't married----"

"Ahem! I am _not_ married," said the lawyer, quickly.

"But, then, if you were truly my guardian, I might come and see you once--or you could come to the school and see me," pursued the girl, wistfully. "But now--now there's nothing--absolutely nothing."

"Now there's nothing," repeated Mr. Gordon, uncompromisingly.

"And the girls at Pinewood Hall will be just like those at Higbee,"

sighed Nancy.

"How's that?" demanded Mr. Gordon.

"They won't want to a.s.sociate with me--much. Their mothers won't let them invite me home. For I am a n.o.body. I heard one lady tell Miss Prentice once that one never knew what might happen if one allowed one's girls to a.s.sociate with girls who had no family. Of course not. I couldn't blame 'em."

"Ha!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr. Gordon again.

"You see, my people might have been dreadful criminals--or something,"

went on Nancy. "It might all come out some day,--and then nice people wouldn't want their girls to have been a.s.sociated with me."

"Ha!" repeated the lawyer.

"You see how it is; don't you?" explained Nancy, softly. "Miss Prentice would not let the girls write home about me. And when they learned last June that I was going to Pinewood they all thought my folks must really be rich. So _that_ was all right.

"But I thought if I could see you, you would tell me all there was to know about myself--and my people; and that maybe I could talk about my guardian and make it all right with those new girls."

"I've told you all I know," said Mr. Gordon, almost sullenly, it seemed.

"Well, then, I--I guess I'll be going," said Nancy, faintly, and turning from the desk. "I--I'm sorry I bothered you, sir."

"Where are you going?" demanded the lawyer.

"Why--why, to Clintondale, sir."

"Ha! I'll make sure that you get on the right train, at any rate," he said, and pressed a b.u.t.ton under the edge of his desk. "Have you had your luncheon?"

"No, sir. Not yet."

He plucked a ten-dollar note out of his vest pocket and thrust it into her hand. "Get your luncheon." The door opened and the red-headed boy looked in. "Pay for 'Scorch's' luncheon, too."

"Ye-es, sir," said Nancy, faintly.

"Scorch!" commanded Mr. Gordon.

"Yessir!" snapped the office boy.

"It's about your lunch hour?"

"Yessir!"

"Take--take Miss Nancy Nelson to Arrandale's. Afterward take her to the station and put her aboard the right train for Clintondale. Understand?"

"Yessir!"

Mr. Gordon wheeled back to his desk. He did not even say good-bye to Nancy as Scorch held the door open for her to pa.s.s out.

CHAPTER VI

THE UNRIVALED SCORCH

"Say! ain't Old Gudgeon a good one?" murmured the red-headed boy, as he followed Nancy to the gate.

She did not answer. That lump had come back into her throat and she was industriously swallowing it. It seemed to her just then as though it would never be possible for her to eat luncheon at Arrandale's,--wherever that might be.

Scorch caught up his cap and hustled her out of the gate, and out of the main office door, and whistled shrilly to an elevator that was just shooting down.

"Come on, Nancy!" he said, with immense patronage. "We'll have a swell dinner and it takes time to do it. When does your train get away?"