Part 8 (1/2)

Lighting the lamp in her room, Betty glanced toward her trunk mechanically. She had left it locked, but the lid was now ajar. Had some one been tampering with the lock?

”He's opened it!” she cried to herself, making a hasty examination.

”How did he dare! And look at the mess everything's in!”

Alas for Betty's hour of neat and careful packing! Dainty garments were tossed about recklessly, her shoes rested on her clean handkerchiefs, and it was plain that no attempt had been made to conceal the fact that a heavy hand had thoroughly explored the contents of the trunk.

”I'm only thankful he didn't break the lock,” said Betty, trying to find a ray of brightness. ”Whatever he opened it with, nothing is broken. I suppose the only thing to do is to take everything out and do it all over. And to-morrow morning I'll sit on the top till Fred Keppler comes.”

Taking out her clothes and repacking was a tiresome job, and all thoughts of reading well gone from Betty's mind when the task was completed and the trunk locked for a second time. With the feeling that, in view of what the next day might bring, she ought to go to bed early, she began at once to prepare for bed. Brus.h.i.+ng her thick, dark hair, her eyes fell on the unopened paper.

”I suppose I'll be there to-morrow night,” she thought, picking it up and slitting the wrapper with a convenient nail file.

She opened and smoothed out the first page. The first words that caught her attention, in large black headlines across four columns, were:

GYPSY BAND STRICKEN WITH SMALL-POX:

WHOLE TOWN QUARANTINED!

Then followed the account of the discovery of illness among a band of gypsies camped on the outskirts of Pineville, of the diagnosis of smallpox, and of the strict quarantine immediately put in force. The issue of the _Post_ was only two days old.

”Well, I never!” gasped Betty, doing some rapid thinking. ”I'm glad it didn't happen after I got there. I might be held up for weeks. I can't stay here, that's certain. There's nothing to do but drive to Glenside and take the train for Was.h.i.+ngton. I guess Fred will be willing to change his plans.”

She decided that she would say nothing to the Peabodys about the alteration of her traveling schedule, fearing that if Mr. Peabody heard she was going to Was.h.i.+ngton he might accuse her of a conspiracy with Bob in connection with the lost deed.

Bright and early the next morning she was up, her pretty traveling bag, the gift of her uncle, packed, her room in perfect order. There was really no one or nothing to say good-by to, for she felt more pity than affection for Mrs. Peabody, and the Bramble Farm animals had been too unused to petting to respond readily to her overtures.

Betty, at the breakfast table, had a swift conviction that she would be leaving with far different feelings if Bob had been there to stay behind.

Mr. Peabody asked her no questions about her plans and stalked off as usual to the barn with Ethan when he had finished the meal.

”I declare I'm going to miss you, Betty,” said Mrs. Peabody once, in the middle of the dishwas.h.i.+ng, with which Betty insisted on helping.

That was a good deal for her to say, and the girl, who had a natural longing to be missed, was grateful. And when Fred Keppler drove into the yard, promptly at half-past ten, and went upstairs for her trunk-- for neither Peabody nor his hired man was in sight--Mrs. Peabody kissed her warmly and with tears in her eyes.

”Hop right in, Betty,” said Fred cordially. ”Got a nice day for your trip, haven't you? All fixed? All right, then.”

He gathered up the reins and had turned the horse's head when, apparently from the clouds, Mr. Peabody appeared on the scene.

”Long as you're going over to Hagar's Corners you won't mind giving me a lift, will you?” he drawled. ”I have an errand over at the station, and it won't take me a minute. I can come right back with you. Go on, Fred; I'll sit in here with the trunk and you and Betty needn't mind me.”

Without waiting for an invitation, he swung himself up on top of the trunk, and smiled pleasantly. He was saving his own horse a long drive and getting a necessary errand done at the expense of a neighbor, always a desirable consummation in the Peabody mind.

Fred opened his mouth and closed it wordlessly. His father would have known what to do, but fifteen-year-old Fred did not know how to deal with such a display of a.s.surance. There seemed nothing to do but to take this unwelcome pa.s.senger to Hagar's Corners and back.

Betty, for her part, could have cried with vexation. Gone was her chance of asking Fred to take her to Glenside, and with it the hope of getting to Was.h.i.+ngton. She knew that after the noon train at Hagar's Corners there were no more till four o'clock. She wanted to say good-by to the Guerins and to cash her uncle's check. No wonder she was a.s.sailed by a strong desire to tumble the satisfied Mr.

Peabody out head over heels.

The drive was taken almost in silence, each of the three busy with his own thoughts. At the station Betty and her trunk were put down, and then she had a few minutes to speak to Fred while Mr. Peabody was talking to the freight agent, who was also the pa.s.senger agent, the telegraph clerk and the janitor.