"He won't be made to come back," repeated her tormentor.

"I wish I could believe you," said Betty pitifully.

She looked so young and helpless, trying to pit her girlish
intelligence and strength against the wily miser, that another man
would have been ashamed to press her. Not so Peabody--he had always
considered that he was entitled to whatever he could get from others,
information, cash, or work, it mattered not.

They were approaching the Durling farm now, and suddenly Betty's
pointed chin lifted.

"I won't tell you!" she said firmly. "I do know where Bob went, but
he was perfectly justified in leaving a place where he was treated
worse than a dog. You would do him no good--I'm sure of that. And if
the poorhouse authorities make a fuss about his running off, I'll
tell them what he had to endure."

Joseph Peabody's mouth dropped in astonishment. He had seen Betty
lose her temper before, but she had never so openly defied him.

"You think you're high and mighty," he sneered. "Let me tell you,
Miss, there's more ways than one of getting what you want in this
world. Joe Peabody isn't checkmated very often, and it takes more
than an impudent girl to do it. I'm going into Lem Durling's and
telephone Jim Turner, the poormaster. I kind of surmise he can give
me a line on the direction Bob's taken."