How long she lay there seemed of no importance to one so weak. At that moment she did not care whether she lived or died. She hated Glenwood! She hated the girls! She hated everything as she sobbed hysterically.
Jake came out to gather up some leaves. He saw the girl lying there. At first he thought it was only some prank, but, as he looked into her face, he knew something was wrong.
“What is it, miss?” he asked kindly.
“I have been robbed—robbed of my purse, of my check, of my letter!” she moaned.
“And who did it?” inquired the man in astonishment.
“A ruffian in the woods. Oh, this horrible place!” and again she burst into tears.
“’Taint horrible at all,” objected Jake. “The young ladies have been going that path for years, and have never even been spoken to. Could it be any one who knew—you had money?”
“How would any one know?” Jean asked, and now she sat up. “Can’t you go and catch him? He’s in a thicket by the elm. Oh, I shall die!”
“Just you come right up to the hall with me, miss, and they’ll attend to you. Then, I look after the fellow. No tramps around here. Never saw one yet, but never mind. Come,” and he got her on her feet.
Staggering and leaning on Jake’s arm she managed to reach the school—a very much frightened girl.