"You let her alone!" she said, with spirit. "You've no right to touch her!"
"I'll show you whether I've any right or not, and I'm going to take her back with me!" Farmer Weeks said, furiously. "Come on, you baggage! You'll not make a fool of me again, I'll promise you that!"
"Come on," said Bessie, suddenly. She still held Zara's hand, and before the surprised farmer could stop them, Bessie had dragged Zara to her feet, and they had dashed under his outstretched arm and got clear away, while the loafers about the station laughed at him.
"Come back! You can't get away!" he shouted, as he broke into a clumsy run after them. "Come back, or I'll make you sorry—"
But Bessie knew what she was about. Without paying the slightest attention to his angry cries, she ran straight around to the front of the station, and there she found the fat policeman.
"Won't you help us?" she cried. "Mr. Norris, the conductor, said you would—"
"What's wrong?" said the policeman, starting. He had been dozing. "Any friend of Tom's is a friend of mine—here, here, none of that!"
The last remark was addressed to Farmer Weeks, who had come up and seized Zara.
"I've got an order saying I've a right to take her," exclaimed Weeks.
"But it's not good in this state—" interrupted Bessie.