"Why—why, that's Jack Besmith! He worked for Mr. Massey all Winter.
What is he doing here?" murmured Janice.
She did not rise and expose herself to the fellow's gaze. For one thing, the ex-drug clerk looked very rough in both dress and person.
His uncombed hair was littered with straw and bits of corn-blades from the fodder on which he had lain. His clothing was stained. He wore no linen and the shoes on his feet were broken.
Never in her life had Janice Day seen a more desperate looking young fellow and she was actually afraid of him. Yet she knew he came of a respectable family, and that he had a decent lodging in town. What business had he up here at her uncle's sheepfold?
Janice continued her walk no farther. She remained in hiding until she saw Jack Besmith stumble out of the sheep pasture and down the hill behind the Day stables—taking a retired route toward the village.
Coming down into the barnyard once more, Janice met Marty with a foaming milk pail.
"Hullo, early bird!" he sang out. "Did you catch the worm this morning?"
Janice shuddered a trifle. "I believe I did, Marty," she confessed.
"At least, I saw some such crawling thing."
"Hi tunket! Not a snake so early in the year?"
"I don't know," and his cousin smiled, yet with gravity.