a fugitive from the law, and that for some unknown reason he dared not
face his accusers.

Some people might consider this an evidence of guilt, but Mary Louise
and Gran'pa Jim had been close comrades for two years and deep in her
heart was the unalterable conviction that his very nature would revolt
against crime of any sort. Moreover--always a strong argument in her
mind--her mother had steadfastly believed in her grandfather and had
devoted herself to him to the exclusion of all else in her life, even
neglecting her own daughter to serve her father. Mamma Bee loved her,
she well knew, yet Mary Louise had never enjoyed the same affectionate
intercourse with her mother that she had with her grandfather, for Mamma
Bee's whole life seemed to center around the old Colonel. This unusual
devotion was proof enough to Mary Louise that her grandfather was
innocent, but it did not untangle the maze.

Looking back over her past life, she could recall the many sudden
changes of residence due to Colonel Weatherby's desire to escape
apprehension by the authorities. They seemed to date from the time they
had left that big city house, where the child had an especial nurse and
there were lots of servants, and where her beautiful mother used to bend
over her with a good-night kiss while arrayed in dainty ball costumes
sparkling with jewels. Mary Louise tried to remember her father, but
could not, although she had been told that he died in that very house.
She remembered Gran'pa Jim in those days, however, only he was too busy
to pay much attention to her. Let's see; was he called "Colonel
Weatherby" in those days! She could not recollect. That name did not
become familiar to her until long afterward. Always he had been just
"Gran'pa Jim" to her. Yet that dreadful officer of the law who had
questioned her in Beverly had called him "Hathaway--James J. Hathaway."