CHAPTER ONE
"That Gal's Crooked!"
When Mildred Latham left the church, she hurried to her room, greatly excited. Without delay, she threw her belongings together as quickly as possible, and without care. When she had them tied and ready for moving, she went out, locking the door behind her, and paused briefly to gaze up and down the street. After a moment, in which she satisfied herself that neither were in sight, she hurried down the street to where she knew a man lived who owned a dray.
"Can you get a trunk and other matter for me at once?" she inquired, subduing her excitement.
"I guess so. Sometime this afternoon. What number, Miss," he replied, regarding her with admiring eyes. She bit her lips in vexation.
"But I would like it moved at once—right away," she said, quelling her excitement as best she could.
"Oh, very well. Didn't know you were in such a hurry." He called to a black boy in the rear, and, after instructions, turned to her and said: