“Of course not; I intend to work with him.  But I tell you this, Ann, that I am determined to find my own people at whatever cost!”

“Did you ask Mrs. Brimbecomb about them?”

“Yes; but she cried so that I stopped—­and so it goes!  Well, Dear, I don’t want to worry you.  It only makes a little more work for me, that’s all.  But, when I do find them, I shall be the proudest man in all the world.”

Ann rose to her feet hastily.  “Here comes Horace!  Let’s talk over the fair—­and now, Dear, I must kiss away those naughty lines between your eyes this moment.  I don’t want my boy to feel sad.”

She kissed him tenderly, and turned to meet her brother.

“I was tired of staying in there alone,” said Horace.  “Hello, Everett!  It was nice of you, old chap, to ask me along to Dryden.  That’s my one failing in the fall—­I always go.  Let me see—­you didn’t go last year, did you, Everett?”

“No; but I knew that Ann wanted to go this year, and I thought a party would be pleasant.  I asked Katherine Vandecar; but her aunt is such an invalid that Katherine can scarcely ever leave her.”

“Mrs. Vandecar is ill,” said Ann.  “I called there yesterday, and she is the frailest looking woman I ever saw.”

“She’s never got over the loss of her children,” rejoined Everett.  “It’s hard on Vandecar, too, to have her ill.  He looks ten years older than he is.”

“Yes; but their little Mildred is such a comfort to them both!” interjected Ann.  “They watch the child like hawks.  I suppose it’s only natural after their awful experience.  Isn’t it strange that two children could disappear from the face of the earth and not a word be heard from them in all these years?”

“They’re probably dead,” replied Horace gently, and silence fell upon them.

CHAPTER NINE

Flea and Flukey Cronk, followed by the yellow dog, made their way farther and farther from Ithaca.  They had left the university in the distance, when a dim streak of light warned them that day was approaching.  It was here that Flea lagged behind her brother.

“Ye’re tired, Flea,” said Flukey.

“Yep.”

“Will ye crawl into a haystack if we come to one?”

“Yep.”

They spoke no more until, farther on, a farmhouse, with dark barns in the rear, loomed up before them.

“Ye wait here, Flea,” said Flukey, “till I see where we can sleep.”

After an absence of a few minutes he returned and in silence conducted the girl by a roundabout way to a newly piled stack of hay.

“I burried a place for us both,” he whispered.  “Ye crawl in first, Flea, and I’ll bring in Snatchet.  Lift yer leg up high and ye’ll find the hole.”