"I never heard of any book he got out," said Roger. "And I think I would hear if there was such a book."

"That's so," added Phil. "Old Haskers would be so proud of it he would want everybody to know."

"It is certainly a shame he doesn't pay this lady, if he has the money," was Dunston Porter's comment. "Did he give you a note?" he asked of Mrs. Breen.

"He wrote out some kind of a paper and was going to give it to me. But I never got it."

"He's a swindler, that's what he is!" murmured Phil, wrathfully.

"It looks that way," answered Dave, in an equally low tone.

"He knows this lady is next to helpless and he intends to do her out of the money!"

"He ought to be sued," exclaimed Roger.

"You have no note, or other writing about the money?" questioned Mr.

Porter.

"I have his letters," answered the elderly lady. "They are in the bureau yonder." And she pointed to an ancient chest of drawers.

"Shall I get them?" asked Jessie, for she saw that it was a task for the old lady to move around.

"If you will, my dear. I am so stiff it is hard to get up."

Both girls went to the chest of drawers and brought out a small box of letters. Mrs. Breen put on her gla.s.ses and fumbled them over and brought forth three communications which were, as the boys recognized, in Job Haskers's well-known jerky handwriting. She pa.s.sed them over to be read, and all present perused them with interest.

The contents, however, were disappointing, especially to the boys and Dunston Porter, who had hoped to find something by which legally to hold the school-teacher. Not once did Job Haskers mention that he owed Mrs. Breen any money. He simply stated that he regretted he could do nothing for her, that times were hard, and that his income was limited and hard to get. He said as little as possible, and the tone of the communications showed that he hoped he would hear no more from the old lady who had done what she could to aid him.

"I think this is the limit!" said Dave to his uncle. "Don't you think he ought to be sued?"

"I don't know about suing him, Dave; but I think this ought to be put in a lawyer's hands."

"He makes money enough to pay this lady," said Phil. "Say, I've a good mind to give him a piece of my mind!" he added, hotly.

"I'll look into this when I come back this way," said Dunston Porter, after a little more talk. "Perhaps I can get one of our lawyers to prod this Haskers a little, and also state the case to Doctor Clay."

"Oh, will you do that, Uncle Dunston?" cried Laura, brightening, for she, as well as all of the others, felt sorry for Mrs. Breen, who seemed so poor, old, and lonesome.

"Yes, I'll do it. And now we had better be on our way,--if we want to reach Oakdale by noon," went on Mr. Porter.

The boys went out, followed by Jessie. Laura lingered, to whisper something in her uncle's ear. Dunston Porter nodded, and then Laura joined the others.

"Mrs. Breen, I will be back in a day or two, to see you about this money affair," said Mr. Porter, when he and the old lady were alone.

"In the meantime, as you were so kind as to take the young ladies in while we were mending our machine, allow me to make you a little present," and as he finished he placed a five-dollar bill in her lap.

"Oh!" she cried, taking up the banknote. "Why, it's five dollars! I--I can't really take all that money!"

"Oh, yes, you can," said Mr. Porter, smiling. "Use it as you see fit, and remember that I'll be back, and we'll do what we can to get that money from Mr. Haskers."

"You are very, very kind!" murmured the old lady, and tears stood in her eyes. The past winter had been a severe one for her, and she had had a hard struggle to get along.

"Good-by!" shouted the girls and boys to her, and she waved her hand to them. Then the automobile started off once more, in the direction of Oakdale.

CHAPTER V

AT OAK HALL ONCE MORE

"Hurrah! here we are at Oakdale at last!"

"Old town looks natural, doesn't it?"

"So it does, Roger. See any of the fellows?"

"Not yet, Dave. But we are sure to meet somebody, even if it is a school-day," went on the senator's son.

"Uncle Dunston, let me take the auto around to the hotel," said our hero. "I know the streets better than you do. We have to make several turns."

"All right, Dave," was the ready answer, and Dunston Porter arose and allowed his nephew to crowd into the driver's seat.

The run to the town in the vicinity of which Oak Hall was located had been made without further incident. On the way the party had talked over Mrs. Breen's affairs, and Dunston Porter had promised to take the matter up, through his lawyer.

"I think it best that our names don't appear in the case," said he.

"Otherwise, Mr. Haskers might not treat you so well during the term."

"He never treats us well, anyway," grumbled Phil. "But you are right, don't mention our names."

On this late winter day the town looked rather dreary, but the young folks were in high spirits, and Dave, with a grand flourish, ran the car up to one of the best hotels the place afforded. As before, word had been sent ahead that they were coming, and the host of the resort came out to meet them.

"We'll have dinner ready inside of quarter of an hour," he said. "Come in and make yourselves at home."

The repast was fully as good as the dinner served at Ryeport, and everybody enjoyed it greatly.

"And now for the Hall!" cried Dave.

"Glad to leave us?" asked Jessie, half-reproachfully.

"You know better than to ask such a question," he replied. "But if we have got to get back to the grind, why, we might as well do it."

"And I'm a bit anxious to see how the old place looks," added the senator's son.

"Dave, you can run the car to the Hall, if you wish," said Mr. Porter, feeling sure the youth would like to do that very thing.

"All right."