as, it will come out all right. If your father
hasn't done anything wrong, they can't punish him. He'll get a fair
trial if he's been arrested, and they can't prove he's done anything
unless he has, you know."

"But if they lied about him around here, mightn't they lie the same
afterward--at the trial, Bessie? I'm frightened; really I am!"

"Hush, Zara! There's your house, and there's a light! That means there's
someone there. I hope it's your father, but it might be someone else,
and we mustn't let them hear us."

The two girls were out of the cornfield now, and, crossing a little
patch of swampy land, came to the little garden around Zara's house,
where her father had planted a few vegetables that helped to feed him
and Zara.

The house was little better than a cabin, a rough affair, tumbled down
in spots, with a sagging roof, and stained and weather-worn boards. It
had no second floor at all, and it was a poor, cheap apology for a
dwelling, all around. But, after all, it was Zara's home, the only home
she knew, and she was so tired and discouraged that all she wanted was
to get safely inside and throw herself down on her hard bed to sleep.

"Listen!" whispered Bessie, suddenly.

From the room into which the kitchen led there came a murmur of voices.
At first, though they strained their ears, they could make nothing out
of the confused sounds of talk. But gradually they recognized voices,
and Bessie turned pale as she heard Paw Hoover's, easy for her to know,
since his deep tones rumbled out in the quiet night. Zara recognized
them, too, and clutched Bessie's arm.

"My father isn't there!" she whispered. "If he was, I'd hear him."

"There's Farmer Weeks--and I believe that's Jake Hoover's voice, too,"
said Bessie, also in a whisper.

Then the door was opened, and the two girls huddled closer together,
shivering, afraid that they would be discovered. But it seemed that Paw
Hoover had only opened the door to get a little air, since the night was
very hot after the storm. About them the insects were making their
accustomed din, and a little breeze rustled among the treetops. But,
with the door open, they could hear what was being said plainly enough.

"I ain't goin' to wait here all night, Brother Weeks," said Paw Hoover.
"Got troubles enough of my own, what with the woodshed settin' fire to
the house!"

"Oh!" whispered Bessie. "Did you hear that, Zara? It was worse than we
thought."

"Huh!" said Weeks, a