“I suppose you wish to get home as soon as possible,” said Mr. Harrison, as we boarded a street-car to take us to his hotel.

“Yes, sir.  My sister and the rest will be anxious to hear how I’ve made out, and besides I’m anxious to learn how things have gone since I have been away.”

“I’ve no doubt of it.”

“What do you intend to do?”

“I hardly know.  I have some business, but I am quite interested in your case, and—­”

“Would you like to go along!  You’ll be heartily welcome, sir.”

“Thank you, I will.  I want to see how this drama ends,” said Mr. Harrison.

A little later I procured my valise, and we set out for Darbyville.

CHAPTER XXXV

 The widow Canby’s money

I am sure my readers will well understand why my thoughts were busy as the train rolled on its way to Newville.  I could hardly realize that I held the proofs of my father’s innocence in my possession; and I was strongly tempted several times to ask my kind Western friend to pinch me to make sure that I was really awake, and was not merely dreaming my good fortune.

Mr. Harrison probably guessed what was passing in my mind, for he placed a kindly hand upon my shoulder, and said, with a smile:—­

“Does it seem almost too good to be true?”

“That’s just it,” I returned.  “The events of the past week have so crowded on each other that I’m in a perfect whirl.”

“You will have a little more excitement before it is over.”

“I suppose so.  But now that I know it is all right I shall not mind it.  I wonder if I couldn’t send my father the good news by telegraph?”

“You can easily enough.  But don’t you think you had better wait until all is settled?  You might raise false hopes.”

“No fear; Aaron Woodward is guilty beyond a doubt.  But I will wait if you think best.”

It was not long before the train rolled into Newville.  On alighting Mr. Harrison insisted on hiring a cab, and in this we bowled swiftly on our way to Darbyville.  As we passed out of the city and up on the country road I wondered how matters had progressed during my absence.  Had the merchant returned home?

At Darbyville a crowd of men gazed at us with curious eyes.  Among them was Parsons the constable and others who knew me.

“Hello, you back again?” shouted Parsons.

“Yes, indeed,” I replied.  “I suppose you didn’t expect me so soon?”

“I’ll allow as how I didn’t expect you at all,” he returned, with a grin.

“Well, you were mistaken.  I’m back, and back to stay,” said I.

My heart beat high as we turned into the side road that led to the Widow Canby’s house.  I strained my eyes to catch sight of the first one who might appear.  It was my Uncle Enos.  He was doing a bit of mending on the front fence.  As soon as he saw me he threw down his hammer, and ran toward us.