The on the Farm Part 2 (2/2)

”Aha!” cried Jamieson, then. ”If no one in the house here talked to her, someone from outside must have done it. Listen, Bessie. She wouldn't go off that way just from brooding, would she, just from thinking about things?”

”No, I'm quite sure she wouldn't, Mr. Jamieson. She's felt bad two or three times since we left Hedgeville, when she got to thinking about her father's troubles, and everything of that sort. But she's always told me about it and it hasn't made her feel just as she seems to now, anyhow.”

”Well, then, can't you see? No one here said anything to her, so it must have been someone who isn't in the house--someone who spoke to her after you left her out here alone, Eleanor. And I know who it was, too!”

”That nasty looking man you pointed out to me as we were coming along with Mr. Norris?” cried Bessie.

”Yes, indeed--Brack!” said Jamieson. ”He's just the one who would do it, too! Oh, I tell you, one has to look out for him! He's as mean as a man could be and still live, I guess. I've heard of more harsh, miserable things he's done than I could tell you in a week. Whenever he's around it's a warning to look out for trouble. Suppose you go up to her, Bessie, and see if mentioning his name will loosen her tongue.”

But just as she was entering the house Zara, with only her reddened eyes to show that she had been crying at all, came out on the porch.

”I'm ever so ashamed of myself, Miss Eleanor,” she said, smiling pluckily. ”I suppose you think I'm an awful cry-baby, but I was just feeling bad about my father and everything, and I couldn't seem to help it.”

Bessie looked at Zara in astonishment. To the eyes of those who didn't know her as well as Bessie, Zara might seem to be all right, but Bessie could see that her chum was still frightened and weak. She wondered why Zara was acting, for acting she was. She meant that Miss Mercer and everyone should think that her fit of depression had been only temporary, and that now everything was all right. And Bessie, loyal as ever, decided to help her.

But when Charlie Jamieson took his leave again to go back to his office and his interrupted work, he looked at her keenly and when he started to go he took Bessie by the hand playfully and pulled her off the porch, and out of sight of the others.

”Listen,” he said, earnestly, ”there's something more than we know about or can guess very easily the matter with your friend, Bessie. She's been frightened--badly frightened. And it's dollars to doughnuts that it's that scoundrel Brack who's frightened her, too. Keep your eyes on her--see that she doesn't get a chance to speak to him or anyone else alone.”

”Do you think there's any danger of his coming back?” asked Bessie, alarmed by his serious tone.

”I don't know, Bessie, but I do know Brack. And I've found out this much about him. He's like a rabbit--he'll fight when he's driven into a corner. And the time he's most dangerous is when he seems to be beaten, when it looks as if he hadn't a leg to stand on.”

”Do you think he's beaten now, Mr. Jamieson?”

”No, I don't! And just because he's the man he is. If it were anyone else, I'd say yes, because I don't see what they can expect to do. But you can depend upon it that Brack has some dirty trick up his sleeve, and from all you tell me of this man Weeks, he's the same sort of an ugly customer. So you keep your eyes open, and if anything happens to worry you, call me up right away. Get me at my office if it's before five o'clock; after that, call up this number.” He wrote down a telephone number on a slip of paper and handed it to Bessie.

”That's the telephone at my home, and if I'm not there myself ask for my servant, Farrell. He'll be there, and he'll manage to get word to me somehow, no matter where I am.”

”Oh, I do hope I shan't have to bother you, Mr. Jamieson.”

”Don't you worry about that. That's what I'm here for, to be bothered, as you call it, if there's any need of me. Remember that you can't do everything yourself--and you may only get into trouble yourself without really helping if you try to do it all. So call on me if there's any need. And, whatever you do, don't let Zara go out of the house alone on any pretence. Remember that, will you?”

”I certainly will, Mr. Jamieson. You're awfully good to us, and I know Zara would be grateful, too, if she were herself. She will be as soon as all this trouble is over.”

”I know that, Bessie. Don't you fuss around being grateful to me until I've really done something for you. You know, you're the sort of girl I like. You've got pluck, and you don't get discouraged, like so many girls--though Heaven knows you've had enough trouble to make you as nervous as any of them.”

”I get awfully frightened. Indeed, I do!”

”Of course you do, but you've got pluck enough to admit it. Remember this: the real hero is the man who does what's right, and what he knows he ought to do, even if he's scared so that he's shaking like a leaf. Any fool can do a thing if it doesn't frighten him to do it, and he doesn't deserve any special credit for that. The real bravery is the sort a man shows when he goes into battle, for instance, and wants to turn around and run as soon as he hears the bullets singing over his head.”

”I'm sure I would want to do just that--”

”But you wouldn't! That's the point, you see. And you always think things are going to be all right. That's fine--because about half the time we can control the things that happen to us. If we think everything will come right in the end, we can usually make them work out our way. But if we start in thinking that nothing is going to be right, why, then we're licked before we begin, and there's not much use trying at all. Now, you didn't say Zara would feel differently if things came out right. You said she would when everything was straightened out. And that's the spirit that wins. Try to put some more of it into her, and try to make her tell you what happened, too.”

But all of Bessie's efforts to win Zara's confidence that day were in vain. Zara, however, seemed to be all right. She was brighter and livelier than she had been since Bessie had known her. All day long she laughed and burst into little s.n.a.t.c.hes of song, and Miss Mercer was delighted.

Nevertheless Bessie wasn't satisfied, and she kept a close watch on Zara all day. It seemed time wasted, however. Zara made no attempt to keep away from her; seemed anxious, indeed, to be with her chum, that they might talk over their plans for winning enough honors as Camp Fire Girls to become Fire-Makers.

Had Bessie's eyes and her perceptions been less keen she would have thought her first idea, the one she shared with Charlie Jamieson, a mistaken one. But more than once, when Zara thought she was un.o.bserved, and was therefore off her guard, Bessie saw the corners of her mouth droop and a wistful look come into her eyes. There was fear in those eyes, too, though of what, Bessie could not imagine.

It was long after midnight that night when Bessie was aroused, she scarcely knew how. Some instinct led her to turn on the light--and she could scarcely repress a scream when she saw that Zara's bed was empty!

CHAPTER V.

STRANGE SUSPICIONS.

For a moment she stood in the middle of the room, dazed, wondering what could have happened. The door was closed. Bessie rushed to it, and looked out, but there was no sign of Zara in the hall. She listened intently. The house was silent, with the silence that broods over a well regulated house at night, when everyone is or ought to be asleep. But then there was a noise from outside--a noise that came through the windows, from the street.

Bessie rushed back into the room and over to the window. She knew now that the noise she heard was the same one that had awakened her.

And, looking out of the window, Bessie saw what had made the noise--a big, green automobile, that, even as she looked, was gliding slowly but with increasing speed away from the Mercer house. She stood rooted to the spot, unable to cry out, or to make a move. But somehow, though she could never explain afterward how it happened, since the importance of it did not strike her at all at the time, Bessie managed to get a mental photograph of one thing that was to prove important in the extreme--the number of the automobile, plainly visible in the light of the tail lamp that shone full upon it. The figures were registered in her brain as if she had studied them for an hour in the effort to memorize them--4587.

Then, when the car was out of sight around the corner, Bessie's power of movement seemed to be restored to her as mysteriously as it had been taken away. Her first impulse was to cry out and arouse the household. But the futility of that soon struck her, and she remembered what Charlie Jamieson had said. If anything happened, if she was frightened, she was to call on him. And certainly something had happened. Of her alarm there could be no doubt. She was shaking like a leaf, as if she were exposed to a cold wind, although the night was hot and even sultry.

Swiftly she sought for and found the telephone number the lawyer had written down for her. Then, in her bare feet, lest she make a noise and arouse the whole household, she crept downstairs to reach the telephone.

”Oh, I do hope they won't see me or hear me,” she breathed to herself. ”There's nothing they can do, and maybe, if I get hold of Mr. Jamieson at once, we can have Zara back before they know she's gone.”

At that hour of the night it was hard work to get the connection she wanted, and Bessie chafed at the delay, knowing that every moment might be precious, were Zara in real danger. But she got the number at last, after Central had tried to convince her no one would answer at such a time.

”What's happened? Has something gone wrong?” Jamieson asked anxiously as soon as he recognized her voice.

”Oh, I'm terribly afraid it has--and it was all my fault! I was asleep, Mr. Jamieson--and Zara's gone!”

”By herself, or don't you know?”

”I don't know positively, but I think she was taken off in a big automobile. But, Mr. Jamieson, I think she wanted to go!”

”Why, what makes you think that?”

”She's taken all the things that were given to her. And then, she got out so quietly that I didn't hear her. If anyone had carried her away, they'd have waked me up, I'm sure.”

”That's bad--if she went away of her own accord. Makes it harder to find her, harder to get her back.”

”What shall we do, Mr. Jamieson? You will try to get her back, won't you, even if she did go with them willingly?”

”Yes, yes, of course! I'll come out right away. Better not tell the others yet, if you haven't done it already.”

Then Bessie told him about the automobile, and the number she had seen.

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