"Why, I believe he's following Mr. Jamieson!" said Bessie. "See, he
keeps getting behind trees and things, and he's staying on the other
side of the street. Whenever Mr. Jamieson turns, Jake hides himself."

Eleanor frowned thoughtfully.

"I think you're right, Bessie," she said. "And I know what I'm going to
do. I'm going to telephone to his office and tell his clerk to slip out
and meet him, so that he can warn him. He ought to know about that."

She went in hurriedly to use the telephone.

"I'm going upstairs to get my handkerchief," said Zara. "My, isn't it
warm?"

So Bessie was left alone on the piazza. She was afraid of Jake Hoover;
afraid of the mischief he might do, that is. No longer was she afraid of
him as she had been in the old days on the farm, when he had bullied her
and made her the scapegoat for all the offences he could possibly load
on her slim shoulders. One night in the woods, when Bessie, wrapped in a
sheet and playing ghost, had frightened Jake and his mischievous friends
away before they could terrify the Camp Fire Girls as they lay asleep,
had taught Bessie that Jake was a coward.

"It's Zara they're after--not me," Bessie thought to herself. "I've been
out alone ever and ever so often, and there's no one here to hurt me.
I'm going to go after Jake myself, and try to see what he's up to."

At first Bessie's pursuit led her along the pleasant, tree-shaded
streets of the suburb where the Mercers lived. Bessie had never been