“All right, Uncle Sam,” replied “Betsy,” with a smile, “I am hungry.”

They entered the house, and soon were seated on the old-fashioned hickory chairs, before some steaming cakes, and equally steaming coffee.  Tavia was indeed hungry, and she “fell to,” as did Sam, without any unnecessary ceremony.

How strange it was!  But what if the folks at camp thought her drowned?  At any rate she must earn her ticket back.

What an eternity it seemed since she stole away to that little bridge—­she could not bear to think of it now!  And what would Dorothy think.  Ah, how little Tavia knew what poor Dorothy was thinking at that very moment!

“Now, when you’re ready, we’ll hop along,” said Sam as Sarah came in the room, and looked to see if her guests would take more coffee.  “How’s things to-day, Sarah?”

“Ain’t you heard?” she replied ambiguously.

“No, what?” pressed Sam.

“Why, a girl has ’scaped from the hospital.  ’Tain’t very safe fer a strange girl to be around here now.  It might be her,” and she shot an unmistakable threat at Tavia.  “Ain’t never heard you speak, before, of Betsy, Sam.  Where’s she bin?”

“Say, Sarah.  Is there any money up fer findin’ the girl?” he asked, and there was no mistaking his meaning. “’Cause it ain’t no use fer you to—­speculate on Betsy.  She’s no house-pital breakaway.”

But Sarah looked at Tavia with unveiled suspicion.  Tavia felt it—­and the thought that she was a stranger, and might be mistaken for the escaped girl, made her most uncomfortable.

It was a relief when Sam returned from up-stairs, his articles that needed mending done up in a clumsy bundle, and his hat cocked on his head with the army badge over the back of his neck.

CHAPTER XVI

A HARROWING EXPERIENCE

When Dorothy awoke, to find herself still in that attic room, to know that it was not all an awful dream, but a terrible reality, the full meaning her position flooded into her strained mind, like some awful deluge of horror!

That the people who held her captive did so for some undefinable reason was perfectly clear; but why they did so, was just as mysterious as was their reason for plying her with coddling words, as if she were a baby.

Realizing that they would not let her go her way, Dorothy determined, as she lay there, with the moonlight making queer shadows on the slant wall, that she would escape that day!

How little did Tavia know of the danger into which she had thrown her best friend!

“And I wonder,” thought Dorothy, “if Tavia is safely back at camp?  And what do the folks think of me?”

A sigh, as deep as it was sincere, escaped from her lips, and she crawled out of bed to see if daylight was near.

“Such a long night!” she sobbed, “and to think that I am a prisoner!”