With the letter held tightly in her hands, the woman read over twice the pitiful denunciation; then, tearless and strong, she went to her brother.
"What--what are you going to do for her first, Dear?"
"I must go to Albany and see the governor."
* * * * *
In the flurry of the departure little more was said, and before an hour had passed Horace Shellington had taken the train for Albany. He had instructed Ann to tell Floyd what had induced Fledra to leave them, and Ann lost no time in communicating the contents of the little tear-stained letter written to Everett.
Later in the day Ann received a telegram from her brother in which she learned that he had missed the governor, who was on his way to Tarrytown. Horace said, also, that he himself was starting for Ithaca by way of Auburn. Ann sat down beside Floyd and read the message to him.
"Did he say," asked the boy, "that the governor was comin' here to Tarrytown?"
"Yes."
For many moments Floyd lay deep in thought.
"I'm goin' to Governor Vandecar's myself. If he's the big man ye say he is, then he can help us. Get me my clothes, Sister Ann."
"It won't do any good, Floyd," argued Ann. "Governor Vandecar has always thought that your father ought to have his children. He doesn't realize how you've suffered through him."
"I'm goin', anyway," insisted Floyd doggedly. "Get my clothes, Sister Ann. I can walk."
"No, you mustn't walk, Deary, you can't; we'll drive. But I wish you wouldn't go out at all, Floyd. Do listen to me!"
"But I must go. Please, get my clothes."
After brief, but vain, arguing, Ann yielded to Floyd's entreaties.