Floyd raised his head when Ann bent over him. Agitation and sorrow had
so altered her that the change brought him to a half-sitting position.
"Flea's sick, I bet!" he burst out, without waiting to be addressed.
"Don't try to fool me, Sister Ann."
As his suspicion grew within him, his eyes traveled over her face again
and again; then he put his feet on the floor and stood up.
"Ye didn't tell me the truth this morning, did ye?"
Miss Shellington forced him gently back on the divan, and sat down
beside him.
"I'd hoped, Floyd, dear," she said tremblingly, "that we were all going
to be happy. You must be brave and help me, won't you? If you should
become ill again, I think I should die."
"Then, tell me about Flea. Has Pappy Lon--"
"Fledra went back to him last night of her own free will."
With eyes growing wide from fear, Floyd stared at her.
"I don't know what you mean! Did she tell ye she was a goin'?"
"No, Dear. This morning Fledra was not in her bedroom, and for awhile I
thought she had not heeded our cautions, but had gone out for a walk.
But Mr. Brimbecomb has just told me that Fledra went back with your
father, and that, she had not been forced to go."
"I don't believe it!" The boy's voice was sharp with agony. "Pappy Lon
made her go--ye can bet on that, Sister Ann! Flea wouldn't go back
there without a reason. I bet that big duffer of yours had a finger in
the pie."
Ann flushed painfully.
"Floyd, dear, don't, I beg of you!"
"I'm sorry I said that, Sister Ann. But Flea didn't go for nothin'.
Sister Ann, will you and Brother Horace find out why she went? I have to
go, too, if Flea's in the hut. Pappy Lon and Lem'll kill her!"
He attempted to rise; but Ann's restraining hand held him back.
"Floyd, Floyd, dear, we don't know where she's gone; but my brother will
come soon, and he'll find her. He won't let Fledra be kept from us, if
she wants to come back."
The boy's rigid body did not relax at her assurance, nor did her
argument lessen his determination.
"But what about Lem? You don't know Lem, Sister Ann. He's the worst man
I ever see. I've got to go and get my sister!"
"Floyd, you'd die if you should try to go out now. Why, Dear, you can
scarcely stand. Now, listen! I'll send a telegram to my brother, and
he'll be right back. Then, if you are determined to go, and can, he'll
take you. Why, child, you haven't been out in weeks!"
* * * * *
Three days crawled slowly along, and yet Horace made no response to the
many frantic telegrams that Ann had sent. Never had the hours seemed so
leaden-winged as those passed waiting for him to come. Ann had received
one note from him, and three letters for Fledra lay unopened in the
girl's room. His note to Ann was from Boston, and she immediately sent a
despatch to him there.
On the fourth day after Fledra's disappearance, when Ann met her
brother, one glance told her that he was unaware of their trouble.
"Oh, Horace, I thought you'd never get here! Didn't you receive any of
my telegrams?"
"No! What's the matter? Has something happened to Floyd? Where's
Fledra?"
"Gone!" gasped Ann.
"Gone! Gone where?"
His voice was filled with imperious questioning, and Ann stifled her
sobs.
"I know only what Everett has told me. When we got up the morning after
you left, she was gone. I called Everett over, and he told me she went
with her father of her own free will. The squatter told him so."
"He's a liar! And if he's inveigled that girl--"
Ann's loyalty to Everett forced her to say:
"Hush, Horace! You've no right to say anything against him until you are
sure."
Shellington took several rapid strides around the room.
"If I'd only known it before!"
"I've tried to reach you," Ann broke in; "but my messages could not have
been delivered."
"Oh, I'm not blaming you, Ann," he said in a lower tone. "But those men
in some way have forced her to go. I'm sure of it! Fledra would never
have gone with them willingly. Did she leave no message, no word? Have
you searched my room? Have you looked every where?"
"No, I didn't look in your room--it didn't enter my mind. Why didn't I
think of that before? Come, we'll look now."
Under the large blotter on his desk Horace found the two tear-stained
letters Fledra had left. With a groan the frantic lover tore open the
one directed to him and read it.
"She's gone with them!" he said slowly in a hollow voice, and sank into
a chair.
Miss Shellington took the note from his outstretched hand, and read:
"_Mr. Shellington_.--
"I'm going away because I don't like your house any more. Let Floyd
stay and let your sister take care of him like when I was here.
Give him this letter and tell him I'll love him every day. I took
Snatchet because I thought I'd be lonely. Goodby."
The last words were almost illegible. With twitching face, Ann handed
the letter back to Horace.
In the man before her she almost failed to recognize her brother, so
great was the change that had come over him. She threw her arms tenderly
about him, and for many minutes neither spoke. At length, with a start,
Horace loosened his sister's arms and stood up.
"Give Floyd his note--and leave me alone for a while, Dear."
His tone served to hasten Ann's ready obedience. She took the note for
Floyd and went out.
Four times Horace read and reread his letter. He was tortured with a
thousand fears. Where had she gone, and with whom? And why should she
have left him, when she had so constantly and sincerely evinced her love
for him? She could not have gone back to the squatters; for her hatred
of them had been intense. He remembered what she had told him of Lem
Crabbe--and sprang to his feet with an oath. Hot blood rushed to his
fingertips, and left them dripping with perspiration. He fought with a
desire to kill someone; but banished the thought that Fledra had not
held faith with him. He called to mind her affection and passionate
devotion, and knew that to doubt her would be unjust. But, if to leave
him had made her unhappy, why had she gone? He thought of Floyd's
letter, and a sudden wish to read it seized him.
When he entered the boy's room Floyd was lying flat on his back, staring
fixedly at Miss Shellington, who was deciphering the letter for him. She
ceased reading when her brother appeared.
"Horace," she said, rising, "Floyd says he doesn't believe that Fledra
went of her own free will. He thinks she was forced in some way."
Horace stooped and looked into the boy's white face, at the same time
taking Fledra's letter from Ann.
"Flea can't make me think, Brother Horace," said Flukey, "that she went
'cause she wanted to. Pappy Lon made her go, I bet! There's something we
don't know. I want you to take me up there to Ithaca, and when I get
there I can find her. Prayin' won't keep her from Lem. We've got to do
something."
Horace shot a glance of inquiry at his sister.
"We prayed every morning, Dear," she said simply, "that our little girl
might be protected from harm."
"She shall be protected, and I will protect her! Where's the deputy?"
"They called him away the morning Fledra left."
"May I read your letter, Floyd?"
"Sure!" replied the boy wearily.
Shellington's eyes sought the paper in his hand:
"_Floyd love_.--
"I'm going away, but I will love you every day I live. Floyd, could
you ask Sister Ann to pray for everyone--me, too? Forgive me for
taking Snatchet--I wanted him awfully. You be good to Sister Ann
and always love Brother Horace and mind every word he says. I'm
going away because I want to. Remember that, Floyd dear, goodby.
"FLEDRA."
After finishing the letter, Horace said to Ann, "I must see Brimbecomb
at once." And he turned abruptly and went out. Ann followed him
hurriedly.
"Horace, dear, you won't quarrel with him, for my sake."
"Not unless he had a hand in taking her away. God! I'm so troubled I
can't think."
Ann watched him go to the telephone; then, with a premonition of even
greater coming evil, she crept back to Floyd.