“I fear so,” was the reply.

“What do they imagine he has done that is wrong?”

“I do not know,” said Mrs. Conant.  “Peter never tells me anything about the private affairs of his clients, and I never ask him.  But of one thing I am sure, my dear, and that is that Peter Conant would not act as Colonel Weatherby’s lawyer, and try to shield him, unless he believed him innocent of any crime.  Peter is a little odd, in some ways, but he’s honest to the backbone.”

“I know it,” declared Mary Louise.  “Also I know that Gran’pa Jim is a good man.  Cannot the law make a mistake, Aunt Hannah?”

“It surely can, or there would be no use for lawyers.  But do not worry over your grandfather, my child, for he seems quite able to take care of himself.  It is nine or ten years since he became a fugitive—­also making a fugitive of your poor mother, who would not desert him—­and to this day the officers of the law have been unable to apprehend him.  Be patient, dear girl, and accept the situation as you find it.  You shall live with us until your people again send for you.  We have excellent schools in Dorfield, where you will not be taunted with your grandfather’s misfortunes because no one here knows anything about them.”

“Doesn’t Irene know?” asked Mary Louise.

“She only knows that your people are great travelers and frequently leave you behind them as they flit from place to place.  She knows that you lived with us for three years and that we love you.”

The girl became thoughtful for a time.  “I can’t understand,” she finally said, “why Gran’pa Jim acts the way he does.  Often he has told me, when I deserved censure, to ‘face the music’ and have it over with.  Once he said that those who sin must suffer the penalty, because it is the law of both God and man, and he who seeks to escape a just penalty is a coward.  Gran’pa knows he is innocent, but the government thinks he is guilty; so why doesn’t he face the music and prove his innocence, instead of running away as a coward might do and so allow his good name to suffer reproach?”

Mrs. Conant shook her head as if perplexed.

“That very question has often puzzled me, as it has you,” she confessed.  “Once I asked Peter about it and he scowled and said it might be just as well to allow Colonel Weatherby to mind his own business.  The Colonel seems to have a good deal of money, and perhaps he fears that if he surrendered to the law it would be taken away from him, leaving you and your mother destitute.”

“We wouldn’t mind that,” said the girl, “if Gran’pa’s name could be cleared.”

“After all,” continued Mrs. Conant reflectively, “I don’t believe the Colonel is accused of stealing money, for Peter says his family is one of the oldest and richest in New York.  Your grandfather inherited a vast fortune and added largely to it.  Peter says he was an important man of affairs before this misfortune—­whatever it was—­overtook him.”