“O Mr. Gridley, I am in such trouble!  What shall I do?  What shall I do?”

She turned back the name and the bottom of the letter in such a way that Mr. Gridley could read nothing but the few lines relating their adventure.

“So Mr. Clement Lindsay has been saving a life, has he, and got some hard knocks doing it, hey, Susan Posey?  Well, well, Clement Lindsay is a brave fellow, and there is no need of hiding his name, my child.  Let me take the letter again a moment, Susan Posey.  What is the date of it?  June 16th.  Yes,—­yes,—­yes!”

He read the paragraph over again, and the signature too, if he wanted to; for poor Susan had found that her secret was hardly opaque to those round spectacles and the eyes behind them, and, with a not unbecoming blush, opened the fold of the letter before she handed it back.

“No, no, Susan Posey.  He will come all right.  His writing is steady, and if he had broken any bones he would have mentioned it.  It’s a thing his wife will be proud of, if he is ever married, Susan Posey,” (blushes,) “and his children too,” (more blushes running up to her back hair,) “and there ’s nothing to be worried about.  But I’ll tell you what, my dear, I’ve got a little business that calls me down the river tomorrow, and I shouldn’t mind stopping an hour at Alderbank and seeing how our young friend Clement Lindsay is; and then, if he was going to have a long time of it, why we could manage it somehow that any friend who had any special interest in him could visit him, just to while away the tiresomeness of being sick.  That’s it, exactly.  I’ll stop at Alderbank, Susan Posey.  Just clear up these two children for me, will you, my dear?  Isosceles, come now,—­that ’s a good child.  Helminthia, carry these sugar-plums down—­stairs for me, and take good care of them, mind!”

It was a case of gross bribery and corruption, for the fortress was immediately, evacuated on the receipt of a large paper of red and white comfits, and the garrison marched down—­stairs much like conquerors, under the lead of the young lady, who was greatly eased in mind by the kind words and the promise of Mr. Byles Gridley.

But he, in the mean time, was busy with thoughts she did not suspect.  “A young person,” he said to himself,—­“why a young person?  Why not say a boy, if it was a boy?  What if this should be our handsome truant?—­’June 16th, Thursday morning!’—­About time to get to Alderbank by the river, I should think.  None of the boats missing?  What then?  She may have made a raft, or picked up some stray skiff.  Who knows?  And then got shipwrecked, very likely.  There are rapids and falls farther along the river.  It will do no harm to go down there and look about, at any rate.”

On Saturday morning, therefore, Mr. Byles Gridley set forth to procure a conveyance to make a visit, as he said, dawn the river, and perhaps be gone a day or two.  He went to a stable in the village, and asked if they could let him have a horse.