"Because of what I've got to tell him. I--I suppose I ought to have written it, but I just couldn't. Besides, I hadn't found out anything, and so I didn't want to write until I was sure I couldn't find anything. Now it's done, and I haven't found out anything. So I've got to tell him." "Tell him what, Cordelia?" demanded Genevieve, a little impatiently. "How do you suppose I can make anything out of that kind of talk?" "O dear! you can't, of course," sighed Cordelia; "and, of course, if I've told you so much I must tell the rest. It's Hermit Joe's son. I can't find him." "His son! I didn't know he had a son." "He has. His name is John. He ran away to Texas twenty years ago." "And you've been hunting for _him_, too--besides that Lester Goodwin who turned out to be Reddy?" Cordelia nodded. She did not speak. Genevieve laughed unexpectedly. "Of all the funny things I ever heard of! Pray, how many more lost people have you been looking for in the little state of Texas?" Cordelia moved her shoulders uneasily. "I--I'd rather not tell that, please, Genevieve," she stammered, with a painful blush. Genevieve stared dumbly. She had not supposed for a moment that Cordelia had been looking for any more lost people. She had asked the question merely as an absurdity. To have it taken now in this literal fashion, and evidently with good reason--Genevieve could scarcely believe the evidence of her senses. Another laugh was almost on her lips, but the real distress in Cordelia's face stopped it in time. "You poor dear little thing," she cried sympathetically. "What a shame to bother you so! I wonder you had any fun at all on the trip." "Oh, but I did, Genevieve! You don't know how beautiful it all was to me--only of course I felt sorry to be such a failure in what folks wanted me to do. You see, Reddy was the only one I found, and I'm very much worried for fear he won't be satisfactory." Genevieve did laugh this time. "Well, if he isn't, I don't see how that can be your fault," she retorted. "Come, now let's forget all this, and just talk Texas instead." "Aunt Mary says I do do that--all the time," rejoined Cordelia, with a wistful smile. "Aunt Sophronia is there, too, and _she_ says I do. Still, she likes to hear it, I verily believe, else she wouldn't ask me so many questions," concluded Cordelia, lifting her chin a little. "I'd like to take Miss Jane there sometime," observed Genevieve, with a gravity that was a little unnatural. "Oh, mercy!" exclaimed Cordelia--then she stopped short with a hot blush. "I--I beg your pardon, I'm sure, Genevieve," she went on stammeringly. "I ought not to have spoken that way, of course. I was only thinking of Miss Jane and--and the cowboys that day they welcomed us." "Yes, I know," rejoined Genevieve, her lips puckered into a curious little smile.