leaning forward again. "Don't you
think that place looked deserted?"

"It often does between racing seasons, Miss Jessie," the man said.
"Whoever owns it now does not occupy it all the year."

Suddenly Jessie sat up very straight and her face flamed again with
excitement. She cried aloud:

"Chapman! Isn't there a village near? And a real estate office?"

"Harrimay is right over the hills, Miss Jessie," said the chauffeur.

"Drive there at once, please," said the girl. "And stop at the office
of the first real estate agent whose sign you see."

"For goodness sake, Jess!" drawled Amy, her eyes twinkling, "you don't
mean to buy the Gandy farm, do you?"

CHAPTER XX

SOMETHING DOING AT THE STANLEYS'

Chapman drove the automobile down into Harrimay only ten minutes
later. It was a pretty but rather somnolent place, just a string of
white-painted, green-blinded houses and two or three stores along both
sides of an oiled highway. It was a long ten-minute jitney ride from
the railway station.

"Perkins, Real Estate" faced the travelers from a signboard as they
drove into the village. Chapman stopped before the office door, and
the eager Jessie hopped out.

"I'm coming, too! I'm coming, too!" squealed Amy, running across the
walk after her.

"Do be quiet," begged her chum. "And for once let me do the talking."

"Oui, oui, Mademoiselle! As I haven't the least idea what the topic of
the conversation will be, I can easily promise that," whispered Amy.

A high-collared man with eyeglasses and an ingratiating smile arose
from behind a flat-topped desk facing the door and rubbed his hands as
he addressed the two girls.

"What can I do for you, young ladies?"

"Why, why----Oh, I want to ask you--" Jessie stammered. "Do you know
who owns the farm over there by the track? The Gandy place?"

"The old Gandy stock farm, Miss?" asked the real estate man with a
distinct lowering of tone. "It is not in the market. The Gandy place
never has been in the market."

"I just wish to know who owns it," repeated Jessie, while Amy stared.

"The Gandys still own it. At least old man Gandy's daughter is in
possession I believe. Horse people, all of them. This woman----"

"Please tell me her name?"

"Poole, Martha Poole, is her name."

"Oh!" cried Amy, seeing now what Jessie wanted.

But Jessie shook her head at her chum warningly, and asked the man:

"Do you know if Mrs. Poole is at the place now?"

"Couldn't say. S