The voice that rumbled out of Mr. Gordon's throat was commensurate with his bulk. He slowly turned his chair upon its pivot. Trembling, Nancy made her way across the rug to the corner of his desk.
All of a sudden every bit of courage she had plucked up, was swept away. She felt a queer emptiness within her. And in her throat a lump had risen so big that she could not swallow.
Mr. Gordon's eyes were brown. They were heavy-lidded so that Nancy could see very little of their expression. He was a smoothly-shaven man and his thick lips seemed grim.
"You--you are the girl?" demanded the lawyer.
"Yes--yes, sir," she said. "I'm Nancy Nelson."
[Illustration: "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? HAVE YOU RUN AWAY?"]
"What are you doing here? Have you run away?" he shot at her, accentuating the query with a pointed forefinger.
Afterward she realized that that impaling index finger was a gesture of habit--it was his way of "spearing" witnesses in court when they were under fire.
"No, sir," replied Nancy, with more confidence.
"Pinewood Hall, you know. There--there is a four-hour wait here at Cincinnati, you know."
"I did _not_ know," he rumbled forth. Then, like a flash, he demanded: "Who sent you here?"
This question took the last breath of wind out of Nancy's sails. She had, through it all, believed that he might be glad to see her. But now she realized that the opposite was the truth.
"Not the woman at the other school--Miss--Miss Prentice?"
"No, sir. She does not know. I--I just wanted to see you."
"What for?" he asked, in the same sudden, gruff way.
"I--I thought you might want to see _me_, too," she hedged. "You--you know guardians usually _do_ want to see their wards."
"Ha! who told you that I was your guardian?"
"No--no one; but you are, sir?" she questioned, fearfully.
"Then--then you only _act_ for my guardian?"
He looked straight at her, and steadily, for several moments, without speaking. Nancy could learn nothing from his expression.
"I do not know that, legally speaking or otherwise, you have a guardian," he finally said.
"Money passes through my hands for your support and schooling. That is all I can tell you. I am _not_ your guardian."
"Oh, but surely!" cried the greatly perturbed girl, "you know something about me?"