ook and cranny. "What can have become
of him?"

Miss Charity was almost in a state of collapse, and her sister
and Betty both saw that she must be taken home. It was hard work,
going back without Bob, and once in the kitchen, Miss Charity was
hysterical, clinging to her sister and sobbing that first Faith
had died and now her boy was missing.

"But we'll find him, dear," urged Miss Hope. "He can't be lost. A
strong boy of fourteen can't be lost; can he, Betty?"

"Of course we'll find him," asserted Betty stoutly. "I'm going to
ride to the Watterbys in the morning and telephone to Uncle Dick. He
will know what to do. You won't mind staying alone for a couple of
hours, will you?"

"Not in the daytime," quavered Miss Charity. "But my, I'm glad you're
here to-night, Betty. Sister and I never used to be afraid, but you
and Bob have spoiled us. We don't like to stay alone."

Betty slept very little that night. Aside from missing Bob's
protection--and how much she had relied on him to take care of them
she did not realize until she missed him--there were the demands
made on her by the old ladies, who both suffered from bad dreams.
During much of the night Betty's active mind insisted on going over
and over the most trivial points of the day. Always she came back to
the two mysteries that she could not discuss with the aunts: Who had
put the single bar down, and who had milked the cow?

Breakfast was a sorry pretense the next morning, and Betty was glad
to hurry out to the barn and feed and water the stock and milk the
two cows. It was hard and heavy work and she was not skilled at it,
and so took twice as long a time as Bob usually did. Then, when she
had saddled Clover and changed to her riding habit, she sighted the
mail car down the road and waited to see if the carrier had brought
her any later news of her uncle. The Watterbys promptly sent her any
letters that came addressed to her there.

There was no news, but the delay was fifteen minutes or so, and when
Betty finally started for the Watterbys it was after nine o'clock.
She had no definite plan beyond telephoning to her uncle and
imploring him to come and help them hunt for Bob.

"Where could he be?" mourned poor Miss Hope, with maddening
persistency. "We looked all over the farm, and yet where could he be?
If he went to any of the neighbors to inquire, and was taken sick,
he'd send us word. I don't see where he can be!"

Betty hurried Clover along, half-dr