"I guess it's a go," said the young man, kindly. "Here's my father's address," and getting up he handed a card to her. "Hobart Dillson, Ciscasset, Maine. I've got to make tracks now, but Mrs. Minley here will put you on a train that comes by here in the morning, and all you've got to do is to sit still in it, till you hear the conductor holler Ciscasset. Then you hustle out and ask some one where Hobart Dillson lives. When you get there, don't shake if he throws a crutch at you. Just tell him you've come to stay, and I'm going to pay extra for it. That'll cool him, 'cause he's had to pay a housekeeper out of his own allowance up to this. The old boy and I don't rub along together very sweet, but he knows the size of a dollar every time."