“I don’t care if we have to go, to the top of the North Pole, if only we find him,” answered Sam with quiet determination.

Inside of half an hour the bottom of the mountain was gained, and then they struck out along a road which presently took them within sight of the Stanhope homestead.

“I wonder if we have time to call on Dora?” mused Fred.  “It would be a scheme to leave our paper trail right through their garden.”

“Glorious!” burst from Sam, caught by the idea.  “I am certain Dora Stanhope will appreciate the sport.”

It did not take them long to reach the garden around the farmhouse,; and, running up the path, they ascended a side porch.

As they did so two forms appeared around the house.  One was Mrs. Stanhope, wearing a shawl over her shoulders and a bonnet on her head, and the second was Josiah Crabtree!

“Old Crabtree!” murmured Sam, and then of a sudden he pulled Fred out of sight behind some lattice-work inclosing one end of the porch.

“We must hurry, my dear, or we may be too late,” Josiah Crabtree was saying; and now the boys noted that he was conducting the lady toward a carriage standing by the horse block.

“I — I —­ had we not better wait until next week, Josiah?” questioned Mrs. Stanhope timidly.  She was a pale, delicate woman of forty, of a shrinking nature, easily led by others.

“No, my dear, there is no use in waiting.”

“But Dora —?”

“You must not mind what your daughter says, my dear.  When we are married she will easily become reconciled to the change, mark my words.”

“Gracious, old Crabtree is going to marry her!” whispered Sam.  “Poor Dora!”

“She wants me to wait,” continued the lad.

“And you ought to wait, mother,” came in Dora’s voice; and now she too came into sight, but without a hat or wraps.

“Mr. Crabtree wishes very much to have the ceremony performed this afternoon, Dora dear.”

“If he wants to marry you, why can’t he do it openly —­ at home or in our church?”

“He is averse to any display.”

“It seems to me it is a very sneaking way to do,” answered Dora coldly.  “When you and papa were married the wedding was well attended, so I have been told.”

“Your father and myself are different persons, Miss Dora,” interrupted Josiah, Crabtree stiffly.  “I prefer a quiet wedding, and no time is better than the present.  I shall at once resign my position at Putnam Hall and come to live here.”

Dora Stanhope’s lip curled in scorn.  She saw through Josiah Crabtree’s motives, even though her mother did not.

“If you wish to marry my mother, why do, you not make preparations to support her?” she said.

“Dora!” cried Mrs. Stanhope pleadingly.

“I mean what I say, mother.  He intends to marry you and then make you support him, out of the proceeds of this farm.”