't see how she would dare go back to the house after this. I expect
she will return to her father. Poor thing! But we must be careful not to
let Auntie Sue know." Then smiling up at him, she added: "It seems like
Auntie Sue is getting us into all sorts of conspiracies, doesn't it?
What DO you suppose we will be called upon to hide from her next?"

At Brian's suggestion, they went first to the barn, where he quickly
finished his work. Then, carrying the full milk-pail between them, they
proceeded, laughing and chatting, to the house, where Auntie Sue stood
in the doorway.

The dear old lady smiled when she saw them coming so, and, returning
their cheery greeting happily, added: "Have you children seen Judy
anywhere? The child is not in her room, and the fire is not even made in
the kitchen-stove yet."

CHAPTER XVIII.

BETTY JO FACES HERSELF.

All that day Auntie Sue wondered about Judy, while Brian and Betty Jo
exhausted their inventive faculties in efforts to satisfy the dear old
lady with plausible reasons for the mountain girl's disappearance.

During the forenoon, Brian canvassed the immediate neighborhood, and
returned with the true information that Judy had stopped at the first
house below Elbow Rock for breakfast, where she had told the people
that she was going back to her father, because she was "doggone tired of
working for them there city folks what was a-livin' at Auntie Sue's."

This was, in a way, satisfactory to Auntie Sue, because it assured her
that the girl had met with no serious accident and because she knew very
well the mountain-bred girl's ability to take care of herself in the
hills. But, still, the gentle mistress of the log house by the river was
troubled to think that Judy would leave her so without a word.

Betty Jo was so occupied during the day by her efforts to relieve Auntie
Sue that she had but little time left for thought of herself or for
reflecting on the situation revealed in her encounter with Judy. But
many times during the day the mountain girl's passionate accusation came
back to her, "You-all are a-lyin'! You-all come back 'cause HE is here."
Nor could she banish from her memory the look that was on Brian Kent's
face that morning when he was carrying her in his arms back from the
brink of the river-bank, over which the frenzied Judy had so nearly sent
her to her death. And so, when the day at last was over, and she was
alone in her room, it was not strange that Bett