Come, let us walk down toward the bluff." When they had reached a spot on the river-bank a short distance above the Elbow Rock cliff, Brian said to his companion: "Judy, I want you to tell me something.

Did Auntie Sue ever send money in a letter to the Empire Consolidated Savings Bank, in Chicago ?" "The black, beady eyes shifted evasively, and the mountain girl turned her sallow, old-young face away from Brian's direct gaze.
"Look at me, Judy." She sent a stealthy, oblique glance in his direction.
"You must tell me." "I done started ter tell you-all onct,--that time pap ketched me,--an' you-all 'lowed as how I oughten ter tell nothin' 'bout Auntie Sue to nobody." "But it is different now, Judy," returned Brian.

"Something has happened that makes it necessary for me to know." "Meanin' that there letter 'bout her brother bein' dead ?" asked Judy, shrewdly.
"Yes." "What you-all got ter know for ?" "Because--" Brian could not finish.
Judy's beady eyes were watching him intently, now.

"Hit looks like you-all ain't a-needin' me ter tell you-all anythin'," she observed dryly.
"Then Auntie Sue did send money ?" "She sure did.

I seed her fix hit in the letter, myself," came the answer.
"What kind of money ?" "I dunno,--some funny kind hit was,--what her brother done sent her from some funny place, I dunno just where." "When did she send it ?" "'Bout a month 'fore you come." "And--and did any letter ever come from the bank to tell her that the money was received by them all right ?" The mountain girl did not answer, but again turned her face away.
"Tell me," Brian insisted.