one. No one cared for her. Her mother loved Jake best; and besides, if
she told her anythin', she'd only set down an' cry. She'd write and say
she was comfortable; and her father?--he'd get over it. He was kind
always, but he never felt much anyway--leastwise, he never showed
anythin'. When they got her letter 'twould be all right. That was what
she'd do--and so, with her little hands clenched and feverish face, she
sat and thought, letting her imagination work.

A few mornings later Bancroft came down early. He had slept badly, had
been nervous and disturbed by jealous forebodings, and had not won
easily to self-control. He had only been in the sitting-room a minute or
two when the Elder entered, and stopping in front of him asked sharply:

"Hev you seen Loo yet?"

"No. Is she down?"

"I reckoned you'd know ef she had made out anythin' partikler to do to-
day."

"No," he repeated seriously, the Elder's manner impressing him. "No! she
told me nothing, but perhaps she hasn't got up yet."

"She ain't in her room."

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't hear buggy-wheels last night--along towards two o'clock?"

"No, but--you don't mean to say? Lawyer Barkman!" And Bancroft started