THE ESCAPE
BETTY capered exultantly when she was on the ground.
"I packed my things last night," she informed Bob. "If Mr. Peabody
isn't too mean, he'll keep the trunk for me and send it when I write
him to. Here, I'll help you carry back the ladder."
"Take your sweater and hat," advised the practical Bob, pointing to
these articles lying on a chair on the porch where Betty had left them
the afternoon before. "You don't want to travel too light. I think
we'll have a storm before noon."
Betty helped carry the ladder back to the barn and put it in place.
Then she hung around watching Bob harness up the sorrel to the
dilapidated old wagon preparatory to driving to Laurel Grove, a town to
the east of Glenside.
"I'd kind of like to say good-bye to Mrs. Peabody," ventured Betty,
trying to fix a buckle.
"Well, you can't. That would get us both in trouble," returned Bob
shortly. "There! you've dawdled till here comes the old man. Scoot out
the side door and keep close to the hedge. If I overtake you before
you get to the crossroads I'll give you a lift. Doc Guerin will know
what you ought to do."
Her heart quaking, Betty scuttled for the narrow side door and crept
down the lane, keeping close to the osage orange hedge that made a
thick screen for the fence. Evidently she was not seen, for she reached
the main road safely, hearing no hue and cry behind her.
"So you haven't started?" Peabody greeted the somewhat flustered Bob,
entering the barn and looking, for him, almost amiable. "Well, hitch
the horse, and go over to Kepplers. He wants you to help him catch a
crate of chickens. The horse can wait and you can come home at twelve
and go to Laurel Grove after dinner."
Bob would have preferred to start on his errand at once, so that he
might be at a safe distance when Betty's absence should be discovered;
but he hoped that Peabody might not go near her room till afternoon,
and he knew Mrs. Peabody was too thoroughly cowed to try to communicate
with Betty, fond as she was of her.
"I'll take a chance," thought Bob. "Anyway, the worst he can do to me
is to kill me."
This not especially cheerful observation had seen Bob through many
a tight place in the past, and now he tied the patient horse under
a shady tree and went whistling over to the Keppler farm to chase
chickens for a hot morning's work.
"Oh, Bob!" To his amazement, Mrs. Peabody came running to meet him when
he came back at noon to get his dinner. "Oh, Bob!"
Poor Bob felt a wobbling sensation in his knees.
"Yes?" he asked shakily. "Yes, what is it?"
"The most awful thing has happened!" Mrs. Peabody wiped the
perspiration from her forehead with her apron. "The most awful thing! I
never saw Joseph in such a temper, never! He swore till I thought he'd
shrivel up the grass! And before Mr. Ryerson, too!"
Bob's face cleared.
"Did he try to cheat Ryerson?" he asked eagerly. "That is, er--I mean
did he think Ryerson was trying to cheat him?"
"Cheat?" repeated Mrs. Peabody, sitting down on an old tree stump to
get her breath. "No one said anything about cheating. I don't know
exactly how to tell you, Bob. Betty has gone and she's taken all the
chickens with her!"
Bob opened his eyes and mouth to their widest extent. Chickens! Betty!
The words danced through his brain stupidly.
"I don't wonder you look like that," said Mrs. Peabody. "I was in a
daze myself."
"But she couldn't have taken the chickens!" argued Bob, restraining a
mad desire to laugh. "How could she? And what would she want with them?"
"Well, of course, I don't mean she took them with her," admitted Mrs.
Peabody. "But she was mad at Joseph, you know, for locking her in her
room, and he says she's just driven the hens off to the woods to spite
him."
Bob walked out to the poultry yard, followed by Mrs. Peabody. The doors
of the henhouses were flung wide open, and there was not a fowl in
sight.
"When did you find it out?" he asked.
"When Mr. Ryerson drove in for the hens," answered Mrs. Peabody.
"Joseph went out with him to help him bag 'em, and the minute he opened
the door he gave a yell. I was making beds, but I heard him. The way he
carried on, Bob, was a perfect scandal. I never heard such talk, never!"
"Where is he now?" said Bob briefly.
"He's gone over to the woods, hunting for the hens," replied Mrs.
Peabody. "He wouldn't stop for dinner, or even to take the horse. He
says you're to start for Laurel Grove, soon as you've eaten. He's going
to search the woods and then follow the Glenside road, looking for
Betty."
Bob did not worry over the possibility of Betty being overtaken by the
angry farmer. He counted on her getting a lift to Glenside, since the
road was well traveled in the morning, and probably she was at this
very moment sitting down to lunch with the doctor's family. He was
puzzled about the loss of the chickens, and curious to know how the
Peabodys had discovered Betty's escape.
He and Mrs. Peabody sat down to dinner, and, partly because of her
excitement and partly because in her husband's absence she dared to be
more generous, Bob made an excellent meal. Over his second piece of pie
he ventured to ask when they had found out that Betty was not in her
room.
"Oh, Joseph thought of her as soon as he missed the chickens," answered
Mrs. Peabody. "I never thought she would be spiteful, but I declare
it's queer, anyway you look at it. Joseph flew up to her room and
unlocked the door, and she wasn't there! Do you suppose she could have
jumped from the window and hurt herself?"
Bob thought it quite possible.
"Well, I don't," said Mrs. Peabody shrewdly. "However, I'm not asking
questions, so there's no call for you to get all red. Joseph seemed to
think she had jumped out, and he's furious because he didn't nail up
both windows, though how he expected Betty to breathe in that case is
more than I can see."
Bob was relieved to learn that apparently Mr. Peabody did not connect
him with Betty's disappearance. He finished his dinner and went out to
do the few noon chores. Then he started on the drive to Laurel Grove.
"Looks like a storm," he muttered to himself, as he noted the heavy
white clouds piling up toward the south. "I wish to goodness, old
Peabody would spend a few cents and get an awning for the seat of this
wagon. Last time I was caught in a storm I got soaked, and my clothes
didn't dry overnight. I'll be hanged if I'm going to get wet this
time--I'll drive in somewhere first."
Bob's predictions of a storm proved correct, and before he had gone two
miles he heard distant thunder.
With the first splash of rain Bob hurried the sorrel, keeping his eyes
open for a mail-box that would mark the home of some farmer where he
might drive into the barn and wait till the shower was over.
He came within sight of some prosperous looking red barns before the
rain was heavy, and drove into a narrow lane just as the first vivid
streak of lightning ripped a jagged rent in the black clouds.
"Come right on in," called out the farmer, who had seen him coming
and thrown open the double doors. "Looks like it might be a hummer,
doesn't it? There's a ring there in the wall where you can tie your
horse."
"He stands without hitching," grinned Bob. "Only too glad to get the
chance. Gee, that wind feels good!"
The farmer brought out a couple of boxes and turned them up to serve as
seats.
"I like to watch a storm," he observed. "The house is all locked
up--women-folk gone to an all-day session of the sewing circle--or I'd
take you in. We'd get soaked walking that short distance, though. You
don't live around here, do you?"
"Bramble Farm. I'm a poorhouse rat the Peabodys took to bring up."
He had seldom used that phrase since Betty's coming, but it always
irritated him to try to explain who he was and where he came from.
"I was bound out myself," retorted the farmer quickly. "Knocked around
a good bit, but now I own this ninety acres, free and clear. You've got
just as good a chance as the boy with too much done for him. Don't you
forget that, young man."
They were silent for a few moments, watching the play of lightning
through the wide doors.
"Didn't two men named Wapley and Lieson used to work for Peabody?"
asked the farmer abruptly. "I thought so," as Bob nodded. "They were
around the other day asking for jobs."
"Are you sure?" asked Bob. "I thought they had left the state. Lieson,
I know, had folks across the line."
"Well, they may have gone now," was the reply. "But I know that two
days ago they wanted work. I've a couple of men, all I can use just
now, but I sent them on to a neighbor. They looked strong, and good
farm help is mighty scarce."
Bob waited till the rain had stopped and the clouds were lifting, then
drove on, thanking the friendly farmer for his cordiality.
"Don't be calling yourself names, but plan what you want to make of
yourself," was that individual's parting advice.
"If I had a nickel," said Bob to himself, urging the sorrel to a brisk
trot, for the time spent in waiting must be made up, "I'd telephone to
Betty from Laurel Grove. But pshaw! I know she must be all right."