the good sense of her supposed victim.

"Ain't it too bad?" said Weeks tolerantly to the crowd, as he waited for
a policeman, still clutching Bessie's hand tightly. "Who'd ever think a
pretty young gal like her would try to rob an old man--hey?"

"Never can tell, Pop," said a keen-eyed youth, who was standing near.
His eyes darted nervously about from one face to another. "Them as you
wouldn't suspect naturally is the worst, as a rule--it's so easy for
them to make a get-away."

Then the crowd gave way suddenly for a man in a blue uniform, but
Bessie, still unable to say anything, saw at once it was not a
policeman. But it was not until he was quite close to her that she
recognized him with a little thrill of joy. And at the same moment he
recognized her, too, as well as Farmer Weeks. It was Tom Norris, the
friendly train conductor who had helped Zara and herself to escape to
Pine Bridge, and out of the state in which Hedgeville was situated.

"Come, come; what's this?" asked the train conductor sharply. "Let go of
that girl's arm, you Weeks!"

"What business is it of your'n!" asked Weeks, angrily.

"You let her go," said Norris, with determination, "or I'll pretty soon
show you what business it is of mine--I'll knock you down, white hair
and all! You ought to be ashamed of yourself, pickin' on the girl this
way!"

He advanced, threateningly, and none of the crowd undertook to protect