Page 144 - A Little Bush Maid

poor Norah reflected, "you can’t always tell a person just by hearing what
he’s like." Then there was no denying that the conduct of the Hermit would

excite suspicion. He was camping alone in the deepest recesses of a lonely
tract of scrub; he had been there some weeks, and she had had plenty of

proof that he was taken aback at being discovered and wished earnestly that
no future prowlers might find their way to his retreat. She recalled his
shrinking from the boys, and his hasty refusal to go to the homestead. He

had said in so many words that he desired nothing so much as to be left
alone--any one would have gathered that he feared discovery. They had all

been conscious of the mystery about him. Her thoughts flew back to the
half-laughing conversation between Harry and Wally, when they had
actually speculated as to why he was hiding. Putting the case fairly and

squarely, Norah had to admit that it looked black against the Hermit.

Against it, what had she? No proof; only a remembrance of two honest eyes
looking sadly at her; of a face that had irresistibly drawn her confidence
and friendship; of a voice whose tones had seemed to echo sincerity and

kindness. Tt was absolutely beyond Norah’s power to believe that the hand
that had held hers so gently could have been the one to strike to death an

unsuspecting mate. Her whole nature revolted against the thought that her
friend could be so base.

"He was in trouble," Norah said, over and over again, in her uneasy mind;
"he was unhappy. But T know he wasn’t wicked. Why, Bobs made friends

with him!"

The thought put fresh confidence in her mind; Bobs always knew "a good

sort."

"T won’t say anything," she decided at last, as they wheeled round the
corner of the homestead. "Tf they knew there was a tall old man there,
they’d go and hunt him out, and annoy him horribly. T know he’s all right.

T’ll hold my tongue about him altogether--even to Dad."

The coach dropped Mr. Linton next day at the Cross Roads, where a little
figure, clad in white linen, sat in the buggy, holding the brown ponies,