frightened, burst into sympathetic tears, and refused to be
comforted.

No questions were asked, for it was felt by all parties that Emma
Jane's demeanor was answering them before they could be framed.

"He threatened to set the dog on me!" she wailed presently, when,
as they neared the Sawyer pasture, she was able to control her
voice. "He called me a pious, cantin' young one, and said he'd
chase me out o' the dooryard if I ever came again! And he'll tell
my father--I know he will, for he hates him like poison."

All at once the adult point of view dawned upon Rebecca. She
never saw it until it was too obvious to be ignored. Had they
done wrong in interviewing Jacob Moody? Would Aunt Miranda be
angry, as well as Mr. Perkins?

"Why was he so dreadful, Emmy?" she questioned tenderly. "What
did you say first? How did you lead up to it?"

Emma Jane sobbed more convulsively, and wiped her nose and eyes
impartially as she tried to think.

"I guess I never led up at all; not a mite. I didn't know what
you meant. I was sent on an errant, and I went and done it the
best I could! (Emma Jane's grammar always lapsed in moments of
excitement.) And then Jake roared at me like Squire Winship's
bull. . . . And he called my face a mug. . . . You shut up that
secretary book, Alice Robinson! If you write down a single word
I'll never speak to you again. . . . And I don't want to be a