Sitting there on the grass that revengeful spirit took the form of a resolve in Sarah’s heart—­to “pay back” Tavia Travers.

CHAPTER VII

WHAT HAPPENED IN THE ORCHARD

Within the schoolroom more than one girl was wondering what had happened to Sarah Ford.  Dorothy was worried.  Hers was a nature that took all things seriously, while Tavia insisted on looking on “the easy side” as she termed Hope.  She was hoping with all her heart now, that Sarah Ford would soon enter the room, but the morning wore on and no Sarah appeared.

At last recess came.  Such whispering among the girls—­so many theories advanced to account for Sarah’s disappearance.

“Playin’ hookey,” was all Tavia said, in the way she had of making light of things.

“Perhaps she was hurt,” whispered Dorothy to Alice MacAllister, a girl who had always been a close friend.

“I don’t think so,” said Alice, “Even had she fallen there was nothing she could strike on, and I have often jumped when I could not go one bit higher.”

“She may have fallen on the rubbish heap,” suggested one of the older girls.

At last school was dismissed.

“I’ll wager we find her down the lane taking Widow Drew’s apple blossoms,” remarked Tavia, as she and Dorothy started for home.  “She may be going to another party and want a change of decorations,—­she wore honey-suckle last time.”

“Hush!” Dorothy interrupted, “I thought I heard—­”

“Some one moan?  So did I,” declared Tavia.

They listened a moment.

“There it is again,” said Dorothy.  “Oh, I’m sure that’s Sarah!”

“It was down in the orchard,” went on Tavia.

“Help! oh, help me!” came a voice, and this time there was no mistaking the cry; a girl was calling.

Springing over the fence, with Dorothy following her, Tavia ran through the deep grass to the spot from which the sounds came.

Under the apple tree, suffering and helpless, they found Sarah Ford.

“Oh, what has happened!” wailed Dorothy, bending over her.

“You have killed me!” gasped Sarah.

“Is it your ankle?” Tavia asked, trying to find out what could be done to get Sarah home.

“Yes, and you did it!” declared the suffering girl.  “You gave me that last push.  Oh,—­oh.  Get a doctor—­or I will surely die!” and she buried her head deeper in the grass, writhing in agony.

“Can’t you move, Sarah dear?” Dorothy pleaded, “If you only could, perhaps we could make a hand chair and carry you.”

“Oh, it would kill me.  My leg is surely broken.  I can feel the bone.  Oh, dear!  Oh dear me!  What shall I do?  What shall I do?” and the unfortunate girl burst into hysterical weeping—­

“I’ll run and get a wagon—­or a carriage—­or something,” Tavia said nervously, for she was very much frightened at Sarah’s condition.