Driven From Home. Chapter 30, 31, 32, 33
CHAPTER XXX.
AN ECCENTRIC WOMAN.
MISS NORRIS dropped into a chair as if she were fatigued.
“Well, Aunt Rachel, how are you feeling this morning?” asked her nephew.
“Out of sorts,” was the laconic reply.
“I am very sorry for that. I suppose there is reason for it.”
“Yes; I’ve been robbed.”
“Indeed!” said Mr. Norris. “Lost your purse? I wonder more ladies are not robbed, carrying their money as carelessly as they do.”
“That isn’t it. I am always careful, as careful as any man.”
“Still you got robbed.”
“Yes, but of a bank book.”
Here Carl became attentive. It was clear that he would not have to look any farther for the owner of the book he had found in his stateroom.
“What kind of a bank book?” inquired Mr Norris.
“I had nearly a thousand dollars deposited in the Sixpenny Savings Bank. I called at the bank to make some inquiries about interest, and when I came out I presume some rascal followed me and stole the book—-”
“Have you any idea who took it?”
“I got into the horse cars, near the bank; next to me sat a young man in a light overcoat. There was no one on the other side of me. I think he must have taken it.”
“That was Stuyvesant,” said Carl to himself.
“When did this happen, Aunt Rachel?”
“Three days since.”
“Why didn’t you do something about it before?”
“I did. I advertised a reward of twenty- five dollars to anyone who would restore it to me.”
“There was no occasion for that. By giving notice at the bank, they would give you a new book after a time.”
“I preferred to recover the old one. Besides, I thought I would like to know what became of it.”
“I can tell you, Miss Norris,” said Carl, who thought it time to speak.
Hitherto Miss Norris had not seemed aware of Carl’s presence. She turned abruptly and surveyed him through her glasses.
“Who are you?” she asked.
This might seem rude, but it was only Miss Rachel’s way.
“My name is Carl Crawford.”
“Do I know you?”
“No, Miss Norris, but I hope you will.”
“Humph! that depends. You say you know what became of my bank book?”
“Yes, Miss Norris.”
“Well?”
“It was taken by the young man who sat next to you.”
“How do you know?”
“He robbed me last night on the way from New York in a Hudson River steamboat.”
“That doesn’t prove that he robbed me. I was robbed here in this city.”
“What do you say to this?” asked Carl, displaying the bank book.
“Bless me! That is my book. Where did you get it?”
Carl told his story briefly, how, on discovering that he had been robbed, he explored the stateroom and found the bank book.
“Well, well, I am astonished! And how did you know Mr. Norris was my nephew?”
“I didn’t know. I didn’t know anything about him or you, but finding his name in the directory, I came here to ask if he knew any such person.”
“You are a smart boy, and a good, honest one,” said Miss Norris. “You have earned the reward, and shall have it.”
“I don’t want any reward, Miss Norris,” rejoined Carl. “I have had very little trouble in finding you.”
“That is of no consequence. I offered the reward, and Rachel Norris is a woman of her word.”
She thrust her hand into her pocket, and drew out a wallet, more suitable to a man’s use. Openings this, she took out three bills, two tens and a five, and extended them toward Carl.
“I don’t think I ought to take this money, Miss Norris,” said Carl, reluctantly.
“Did that rascal rob you, too?”
“Yes.”
“Of how much?”
“Ten dollars in money and some underclothing.”
“Very well! This money will go toward making up your loss. You are not rich, I take it?”
“Not yet.”
“I am, and can afford to give you this money. There, take it.”
“Thank you, Miss Norris.”
“I want to ask one favor of you. If you ever come across that young man in the light overcoat, have him arrested, and let me know.”