"Everybody likes. What about him?"
"He's gone away. Ma says he won't never live to come back again."
"Victoria—Jones, what are you saying?"
"That Mr. Quaker Burn, up Clove way, had been took to Ne' York."
"I guess you're mistaken. We would have heard about it if it were so. Now, if you please, though, I should like Master Gladstone to be 'took' home. If you'll hold his other hand we'll get him there the quicker."
"I guess I'll go up and set a spell; you take him," remarked Victoria, and turned to ascend the slope.
Amy sighed: "Something must be done to stop this!" Then she lifted her eyes and scanned the white dusty road which circled Bareacre knoll, and across which lay the Jones's cottage. A wagon was driving leisurely along this highway, and it had a most familiar appearance. A moment's watching showed it to belong to the Clove Farm, and it was Adam Burn's "hired man" who was driving in it. Her heart sank. What if Victoria had spoken the truth?
So she hurried her young charge to his home, and waiting only to have her pail filled with the milk, ran back to intercept the approaching vehicle.
"Good morning, Israel. How's dear old Adam?"