Bart went to the back door of the house and knocked, and in a few minutes it was opened by a thin-faced, slatternly-looking woman.
Bart knew who she was, and she apparently knew him, though they had never spoken together before. The woman's face looked interested, and then worried.
"Good morning, Mrs. Wacker," said Bart, courteously lifting his cap. "Could I see Mr. Wacker for a moment?"
"He isn't at home."
"Oh! went away early? I suppose, though, he will be back soon."
"No, he hasn't been home all night," responded the woman in a dreary, listless tone. "You work at the railroad, don't you? Have they sent for Lem? He said he was expecting a job there—we need it bad enough!"
She glanced dejectedly about the wretched kitchen as she spoke, and Bart felt truly sorry for her.
"I have no word of any work," announced Bart, "but I wish to see Mr. Wacker very much on private business." When did he leave home?
"Last night at ten o'clock."
"With his horse and wagon?"