“Ye didn’t tell me the truth this morning, did ye?”

Miss Shellington forced him gently back on the divan, and sat down beside him.

“I’d hoped, Floyd, dear,” she said tremblingly, “that we were all going to be happy.  You must be brave and help me, won’t you?  If you should become ill again, I think I should die.”

“Then, tell me about Flea.  Has Pappy Lon—­”

“Fledra went back to him last night of her own free will.”

With eyes growing wide from fear, Floyd stared at her.

“I don’t know what you mean!  Did she tell ye she was a goin’?”

“No, Dear.  This morning Fledra was not in her bedroom, and for awhile I thought she had not heeded our cautions, but had gone out for a walk.  But Mr. Brimbecomb has just told me that Fledra went back with your father, and that, she had not been forced to go.”

“I don’t believe it!” The boy’s voice was sharp with agony.  “Pappy Lon made her go—­ye can bet on that, Sister Ann!  Flea wouldn’t go back there without a reason.  I bet that big duffer of yours had a finger in the pie.”

Ann flushed painfully.

“Floyd, dear, don’t, I beg of you!”

“I’m sorry I said that, Sister Ann.  But Flea didn’t go for nothin’.  Sister Ann, will you and Brother Horace find out why she went?  I have to go, too, if Flea’s in the hut.  Pappy Lon and Lem’ll kill her!”

He attempted to rise; but Ann’s restraining hand held him back.

“Floyd, Floyd, dear, we don’t know where she’s gone; but my brother will come soon, and he’ll find her.  He won’t let Fledra be kept from us, if she wants to come back.”

The boy’s rigid body did not relax at her assurance, nor did her argument lessen his determination.

“But what about Lem?  You don’t know Lem, Sister Ann.  He’s the worst man I ever see.  I’ve got to go and get my sister!”

“Floyd, you’d die if you should try to go out now.  Why, Dear, you can scarcely stand.  Now, listen!  I’ll send a telegram to my brother, and he’ll be right back.  Then, if you are determined to go, and can, he’ll take you.  Why, child, you haven’t been out in weeks!”

* * * * *

Three days crawled slowly along, and yet Horace made no response to the many frantic telegrams that Ann had sent.  Never had the hours seemed so leaden-winged as those passed waiting for him to come.  Ann had received one note from him, and three letters for Fledra lay unopened in the girl’s room.  His note to Ann was from Boston, and she immediately sent a despatch to him there.

On the fourth day after Fledra’s disappearance, when Ann met her brother, one glance told her that he was unaware of their trouble.

“Oh, Horace, I thought you’d never get here!  Didn’t you receive any of my telegrams?”

“No!  What’s the matter?  Has something happened to Floyd?  Where’s Fledra?”

“Gone!” gasped Ann.