The young girl's clear eyes darkened ominously. "I reckon," she said
deliberately, as she slowly drew from her pocket the photograph Daddy
Folsom had sent, "that that is your photograph. It certainly seems an
excellent likeness," she added, regarding him with a slight suggestion
of contemptuous triumph.

In an instant the revelation of the whole mystery flashed upon him! The
forgotten passage in Houston's letter about the stolen photograph stood
clearly before him; the coincidence of his appearance in Shepherdstown,
and the natural mistake of the children and their fair protector, were
made perfectly plain. But with this relief and the certainty that he
could confound her with an explanation came a certain mischievous desire
to prolong the situation and increase his triumph. She certainly had not
shown him any favor.

"Have you got the letter also?" he asked quietly.

She whisked it impatiently from her pocket and handed it to him. As he
read Daddy's characteristic extravagance and recognized the familiar
idiosyncrasies of his old companions, he was unable to restrain a smile.
He raised his eyes, to meet with surprise the fair stranger's leveled
eyebrows and brightly indignant eyes, in which, however, the rain was
fast gathering with the lightning.

"It may be amusing to you, and I reckon likely it was all a California
joke," she said with slightly trembling lips; "I don't know No'thern
gentlemen and their ways, and you seem to have forgotten our ways as you
have your kindred. Perhaps all this may seem so funny to them: it may
not seem funny to that boy who is now crying his heart out in the hall;