CHAPTER VIII
GOOD-BY TO BRAMBLE FARM
Betty was still mystified.
"What has Bob to do with it?" she urged. "I don't see how the deedwould be of any use to him; he couldn't claim the lots."
"No, he couldn't claim the lots," admitted Joseph Peabody's wife."But he could hold the deed and threaten to notify George Warren, ifJoseph didn't pay him a good round sum of money. Mind you, I'm notsaying he would do that, Betty, but he could. That's what Josephthinks he means to do."
"Well, I call that very silly," said Betty briskly. "Bob Hendersonisn't a thief or a blackmailer, whatever Mr. Peabody chooses tothink. That deed is probably in another coat pocket this minute, orelse he's lost it over in Glenside."
"I expect that worries him some, too," confided Mrs. Peabody. "Hewould hate to have it known that he's bought the Warren lots. But Iguess it would have been better to have had the deed recorded than torun the risk of losing it and the whole town likely to pick it up onthe street."
Before supper that night Betty had her trunk packed and her simplebelongings gathered up. She knew that Peabody was fully aware of herintention to leave, but, as her board was paid for nearly a week inadvance, he could make no possible objection. It was sheerperversity, she decided, that kept him from mentioning the subject toher.
"I'm going to-morrow, Mr. Peabody," she said pleasantly at thesupper table, having waited till Ethan had gone to the barn to milk."What time would be most convenient to take my trunk over to Glensideor to Hagar's Corners?"
"I'm not going to either place to-morrow," was the composed answer."Don't know exactly when I shall be going over again, either. Ethanand me's got our hands full right here with the late-seasoncultivating."
"But I have to get to the station," protested Betty. "I can walk, ofcourse, but some one will have to take my trunk. You met me at thestation when I came, or rather Bob did, you know. Why aren't youwilling to help me go now that the summer is nearly over?"
"You haven't done me so many favors that I should put myself out foryou," retorted Peabody sourly. "I don't care how you get to thestation, but none of my rigs go off this place to-morrow, that'sflat. And you haven't got that thieving nimble-fingers to plot andplan with you now. You'll have to manage by yourself."
"What are you going to do, Betty?" asked Mrs. Peabody anxiously,following the girl to the door after the meal was over. "You're notgoing to walk to Glenside to-night to try to get a team to come afteryou?"
"No, I'm only going over to Kepplers," replied Betty capably. "I'msure one of the boys will drive me over, if not to Glenside, toHagar's Corners, where I can get some kind of train for the Junction.All the through trains stop at Hagar's Corners, don't they? I camethat way. Perhaps that station is better than Glenside, after all."
The walk across the fields tranquillized her, and she was able toenlist the aid of the Keppler's oldest boy without entering into toodetailed an account of Mr. Peabody's shortcomings. Indeed, theKepplers, father and sons, having been the nearest neighbors toBramble Farm for eleven years, had a very fair idea of what went onthere.
"Sure, I'll take you, and the trunk, too," promised Fred Kepplerheartily. "Any time you say, Betty. There's a good train forPineville, not too many stops, at twelve-three. How about that?"
It was settled that he should come for her about half past ten, andBetty walked home filled with thoughts of the little home town towhich she would be speeding on the morrow.
"If Uncle Dick knew the things I've had to endure, I'm sure he'd saythat I haven't lost my temper often, considering," she mused. "Isthat something sticking out of the mail box? Why. it is, and anewspaper. I guess Mr. Peabody forgot to come down to the box to-day."
She opened the box and found the paper was addressed to her. Thefamiliar wrapper and type told her it was the _Pineville Post_, towhich she had subscribed when she left the town, and, tucking it underher arm, she went on to the house, intending to read an hour or sobefore going to bed.
Lighting the lamp in her room, Betty glanced toward her trunkmechanically. She had left it locked, but the lid was now ajar. Hadsome one been tampering with the lock?
"He's opened it!" she cried to herself, making a hasty examination."How did he dare! And look at the mess everything's in!"
Alas for Betty's hour of neat and careful packing! Dainty garmentswere tossed about recklessly, her shoes rested on her cleanhandkerchiefs, and it was plain that no attempt had been made toconceal the fact that a heavy hand had thoroughly explored thecontents of the trunk.
"I'm only thankful he didn't break the lock," said Betty, trying tofind a ray of brightness. "Whatever he opened it with, nothing isbroken. I suppose the only thing to do is to take everything out anddo it all over. And to-morrow morning I'll sit on the top till FredKeppler comes."
Taking out her clothes and repacking was a tiresome job, and allthoughts of reading well gone from Betty's mind when the task wascompleted and the trunk locked for a second time. With the feelingthat, in view of what the next day might bring, she ought to go tobed early, she began at once to prepare for bed. Brushing her thick,dark hair, her eyes fell on the unopened paper.
"I suppose I'll be there to-morrow night," she thought, picking itup and slitting the wrapper with a convenient nail file.
She opened and smoothed out the first page. The first words thatcaught her attention, in large black headlines across four columns,were:
GYPSY BAND STRICKEN WITH SMALL-POX:
WHOLE TOWN QUARANTINED!
Then followed the account of the discovery of illness among a bandof gypsies camped on the outskirts of Pineville, of the diagnosis ofsmallpox, and of the strict quarantine immediately put in force. Theissue of the _Post_ was only two days old.
"Well, I never!" gasped Betty, doing some rapid thinking. "I'm gladit didn't happen after I got there. I might be held up for weeks. Ican't stay here, that's certain. There's nothing to do but drive toGlenside and take the train for Washington. I guess Fred will bewilling to change his plans."
She decided that she would say nothing to the Peabodys about thealteration of her traveling schedule, fearing that if Mr. Peabodyheard she was going to Washington he might accuse her of a conspiracywith Bob in connection with the lost deed.
Bright and early the next morning she was up, her pretty travelingbag, the gift of her uncle, packed, her room in perfect order. Therewas really no one or nothing to say good-by to, for she felt morepity than affection for Mrs. Peabody, and the Bramble Farm animalshad been too unused to petting to respond readily to her overtures.Betty, at the breakfast table, had a swift conviction that she wouldbe leaving with far different feelings if Bob had been there to staybehind.
Mr. Peabody asked her no questions about her plans and stalked offas usual to the barn with Ethan when he had finished the meal.
"I declare I'm going to miss you, Betty," said Mrs. Peabody once, inthe middle of the dishwashing, with which Betty insisted on helping.
That was a good deal for her to say, and the girl, who had a naturallonging to be missed, was grateful. And when Fred Keppler drove intothe yard, promptly at half-past ten, and went upstairs for hertrunk--for neither Peabody nor his hired man was in sight--Mrs. Peabodykissed her warmly and with tears in her eyes.
"Hop right in, Betty," said Fred cordially. "Got a nice day for yourtrip, haven't you? All fixed? All right, then."
He gathered up the reins and had turned the horse's head when,apparently from the clouds, Mr. Peabody appeared on the scene.
"Long as you're going over to Hagar's Corners you won't mind givingme a lift, will you?" he drawled. "I have an errand over at thestation, and it won't take me a minute. I can come right back withyou. Go on, Fred; I'll sit in here with the trunk and you and Bettyneedn't mind me."
Without waiting for an invitation, he swung himself up on top of thetrunk, and smiled pleasantly. He was saving his own horse a longdrive and getting a necessary errand done at the expense of aneighbor, always a desirable consummation in
the Peabody mind.
Fred opened his mouth and closed it wordlessly. His father wouldhave known what to do, but fifteen-year-old Fred did not know how todeal with such a display of assurance. There seemed nothing to do butto take this unwelcome passenger to Hagar's Corners and back.
Betty, for her part, could have cried with vexation. Gone was herchance of asking Fred to take her to Glenside, and with it the hopeof getting to Washington. She knew that after the noon train atHagar's Corners there were no more till four o'clock. She wanted tosay good-by to the Guerins and to cash her uncle's check. No wondershe was assailed by a strong desire to tumble the satisfied Mr.Peabody out head over heels.
The drive was taken almost in silence, each of the three busy withhis own thoughts. At the station Betty and her trunk were put down,and then she had a few minutes to speak to Fred while Mr. Peabody wastalking to the freight agent, who was also the passenger agent, thetelegraph clerk and the janitor.
"Don't you want some money?" whispered Fred hurriedly. "Mother toldme to ask you. And she sent you this."
He thrust into her hands a box of lunch.
"I have a check I want to cash," said Betty nervously. "Will thestation agent do it, do you suppose? It's for fifty dollars. And,Fred, Pineville is quarantined for smallpox and I want to go toWashington, but I didn't want Mr. Peabody to know. Hush! Here hecomes now!"
Fred Keppler had what his fond mother called a "good head," and asPeabody and the agent stopped in the station doorway to continuetheir discussion he proceeded to bear out her theory by thrusting awad of bills into Betty's hand.
"Money for the calves," he explained. "Just fifty there. Haven'tseen Dad to turn it over to him. Give me the check and it will be allright. And you ask Dan Gowdy, the agent, about trains. I guess he candope out a way to get you to Washington. You still have ten minutes."
"Good-by, and thank you heaps!" cried Betty warmly, shaking hishand. "I don't know what I should have done without you, Fred!"