o get a look
at the horses and carriages that were tied in the shed for she would
know Farmer Weeks' rig anywhere, she was sure. But she had to be
careful, for the inn was a busy spot, and around the horses and the
autos, especially, were lots of men, working, smoking, loafing--and any
one of them, Bessie felt sure, was certain to question her if they saw
her prowling about.

She got behind the shed, and then she had to work along to the end
farthest from the direction of the road she had left, since, at the near
end, a group of men were sitting down and eating their lunch. But, with
the shed full of horses making plenty of noise, to screen her movements,
that wasn't so difficult. Bessie managed it all right, and, when she got
to the far end, and had a chance to peep at the horses, her heart leaped
joyfully, for she saw within a few feet of her Farmer Weeks' horse and
buggy, the buggy sadly in need of paint and repairs, and the harness a
fair indication of the miserly nature of its owner, since it was patched
in a dozen places and tied together with string in a dozen others.

"Well, I know that much, anyhow!" said Bessie to herself. "He didn't
take her to Zebulon, and he can't have done anything yet. I don't
believe he's got any right to keep her that way, not unless the people
at the poor-farm give him the right to take her. Zara hasn't done
anything--it isn't as if she'd been arrested, and were running away from
that."

Suddenly Bessie started with alarm. She had drawn back among the trees
to hide while she tried to think out the best course of action for her
to take, and she heard someone moving quite close to her. But then, as
the one who had frightened her came into view, she smiled, for it was
only a small boy, very dirty and red of face, his white clothes soiled,
but looking thoroughly happy, just the same.

"Hello!" he said, staring at her.

"Hello, yourself! Where did you come from? And wherever did you get all
that dirt on yourself?"

"Oh, in the woods," said the small boy. "Say, my name's Jack Roberts,
and my pop owns that hotel there. What's your name? Do you like
cherries? Can you climb a tree? Did you ever go out in the woods all
alone? Can you swim?"

"My, my! One question at a time," laughed Bessie. "I love cherries. Have
you got some?"

"Bet I have!" he said. The single answer to all his questions seemed to
satisfy him thoroughly, and he pulled out a great handful of cherries
from his straw h