"Where is he?" demanded Betty energetically. "I hope you didn't come
away without seeing him, Bob. What's his name? How does he look?"

"His name," said Bob slowly, "is Lockwood Hale. And he went back to
Washington the next day."

Betty's air castles tumbled with a sickening slump.

"Bob Henderson!" she cried, remembering, however, to keep her voice
low. "The idea! Do you mean to tell me they let that man go without
notifying you? Why I never heard of anything so mean!"

"Oh, I'm not important," explained Bob, quite without bitterness.
"Poorhouse heads don't put themselves out much for those under 'em
--though Jim Turner's always treated me fair enough. But Lockwood Hale
had to go back to Washington the next day, Betty. There honestly
wasn't time to send for me."

"Perhaps they gave him your address," said Betty hopefully. "But,
oh, Bob, you say he was there a month ago?"

Bob nodded unhappily.

"He hasn't my address," he admitted. "Jim says he meant to give it
to him, but the old fellow left suddenly without saying a word to any
one. Jim thought maybe he had the name in mind and would write
anyway. I'd get it, you know, if it went to the poorhouse. But I
guess Hale's memory is like a ragbag--stuffed with odds and ends that
he can't get hold of when he wants 'em. No, Betty, I guess the only
thing for me to do is to go to Washington."