The presence of the girls at their camp was one source of pleasure, if somewhat tantalizing. She told her mother about a camp at that end of the lake and asked if she might not sell their eggs and vegetables to them. To this Mrs. Klein agreed, more readily than ever after the sale to Fran and the good price that she paid. Long evenings in the garden Greta spent, plying a busy hoe against the weeds. That the campers were girls she did not mention, but their bright faces were often before her. They led a different life, a life that had something ahead of it, for she saw them with their books and field glasses, or taking their early dip and rowing about the lake. Sometimes she swam nearly to the little bay when she thought that she had time.

Then she met them on the unfortunate occasion of Fran’s remark and again when she fell in with Jean on a very early stroll toward their camp. By that time Jean had heard from Jimmy that the Klein house was across the lake from the Wizards’ shack and that Jacob Klein was a lazy ne’er-do-well, who drank and abused his family. “Poor Greta!” thought Jean.

It happened next that Jean, Molly and Nan took a longer hike than they had intended and found themselves coming out of the woods upon a narrow road that led to the lake, as they could see. At a little distance they saw a house and decided to stop and ask for a drink of water.

CHAPTER XV
MOLLY’S ADVENTURE

It was late in the afternoon. As it happened, Greta had taken the children with her to deliver clothes. They could at least sit in the boat to watch one basket while she delivered the other. In consequence, no dingy children were at the Klein gate when Jean and the other two girls entered. Even the dogs were away with their master, who was as a rule more kind to them than to his children.

The gate of a rickety fence stood open. A few hens ran about the yard with some long-legged young chickens. The girls entered the yard, hesitating a little as they walked up to the door, which stood open revealing anything but a well-kept room inside. They rapped, intending to ask if they might find the well, for Jean had her collapsible cup with her. There was no response.

“Out in the field, I suppose,” said Molly. “Let’s see if we can find the well. It can’t do any harm, and I’m perishing for a drink. That woods was fearfully hot, I thought.”

Turning from the door, the girls started around the house. There were two old pumps, and while the girls were guessing which was the well and which was the cistern, they heard the sound of crying, a faint moaning, further back in the yard, it seemed. Toward the left there stood an old barn and sheds, with the sty, odorous and muddy. But toward the right there was a tangle of bushes and fruit trees, to all appearances from where they stood.

They listened, Molly with her fingers to her lips. “Perhaps we’d better go on,” whispered Nan.