had filled the
last chicken yard pan. "And I'm going up to the house and help myself
from the pantry. I'm 'most sure the kitchen door is unlocked; no one
around here ever locks the back door."

She was very hungry by this time, having had nothing since an early
breakfast, and she had no scruples about helping herself to whatever
edibles she might find.

"I begin to sympathize with all the hired men," she thought, making
her way to the kitchen door. "I don't wonder they eat huge meals when
they have to do such hard work."

The door, as she had expected, was not locked. A slight turn on the
knob opened it easily, and Betty stepped cautiously into the kitchen.
The drawn shades made it dark, but it was not the darkness that
caused Betty to jump back a step.

She listened intently. Would she hear the noise again, or had it been
only her nervous imagination?

No--there it was again, plain and unmistakable. Some one had groaned!

CHAPTER XIV

TWO INVALIDS

Betty, for a single wild instant, had an impulse to slam the door
shut and gallop off the place on Clover. She was all alone, and miles
from help of any sort, no matter what happened. Then, as another
groan sounded, she bravely made up her mind to investigate. Some one
was evidently sick and in pain; that explained the state of affairs
at the barns. Could she, Betty Gordon, run away and leave a sick
person without attempting to find out what was needed?

It must be confessed that it took a great deal of courage to pull
open the grained oak door that led from the kitchen and behind which
the groans were sounding with monotonous regularity, but the girl set
her teeth, and opened it softly. In the semi-darkness she was able to
make out the dim outlines of a bed set between the two windows and a
swirl of bedclothes, some of which were dragging on the floor.

"I'm just Betty," she quavered uncertainly, for though the groans had
stopped no one spoke. "I heard you groaning. Are you sick, and is
there anything I can do for you?"

"Sick," murmured a woman's voice. "So sick!"

At the sound of utter weariness and pain, Betty's fear left her and
all the tenderness and passionate desire for service that had made
her such a wonderful little "hand" with ill and fretful babies in her
old home at Pineville came to take its place.

"I'll have to put the shades up," she explained, stepping lightly to
the windows and pulling up the green shades. "Then I can see to make