ymock, or sharp
expressions like Nurse and Biddy, and when she called him to follow her,
Toby willingly followed.

"You're to come along with me, poor doggie," she said. "You're only a
worry to the good lady at present, and I'm pleased to have your company.
Besides, who knows, you're a sharp dog, Toby, and you and I will keep
our eyes and ears open, and you your nose as well, for that's a gift the
more, you have, you doggies, nor us."

And so saying Barbara and her companion made their way to the
cross-roads, a point well known in the country-side. For there a great
finger-post served the double purpose of informing the traveller in four
directions and of frightening many a country lad or lassie of a
moonlight night, when it stood gaunt and staring like a gigantic
skeleton, as everybody knows the meeting of cross-roads is at no time a
canny spot.

Here Farmer Carson had promised to take up Barbara, for his home lay a
mile or two out of the village, all of which she kindly explained to her
little companion as they went along. She had a great habit of talking to
herself, and she was so much alone that it was quite a treat to have
"some one" to talk to, as she also informed Toby. He looked up at her
with his bright eyes, from time to time wagging his tail, "for all the
world like a Christian," thought Barbara, but nevertheless I am afraid
he did not take in her information as fully as appeared. For when, after
they had sat waiting for him for some minutes, the worthy farmer drove
up with a cheery "Good morning, Mrs. Twiss," Toby had the impertinence
to bark furiously at him and his most respectable old mare, as if they
had not quite as good a right as he to the king's highway!

This, of course caught the farmer's attention.

"That's a knowing little chap you've got with you, neighbour Twiss," he
said; "he favours the one at the Lodge, does he not?"

This naturally led to Barbara's explaining that he was the one at the
Lodge in person, and then she and her friend beguiled the way by talking
over the sad and mysterious disappearance of the children.

It was very sad, and very strange, the farmer agreed. Then he scratched
his head with the hand that was not occupied with the reins.

"I've thought a deal about it," he said, "and I've come to think
it's--as likely as not--gipsies after all."

Barbara started.

"But there's been none about," she said, "not for ever so long. The
General"--the General was Grandpapa--"t