an that nut who took my letter?"

"The hero who took your letter. He had to lie outside my door every
night to keep me from escaping, and he slipped your message under it.
Where should I be now but for him? Poor child, he is as friendless as I
am"--Geraldine interrupted herself with a grateful look at her
companion--"as I was, I mean. He had to follow me and guard me wherever
I went, always keeping at a distance, because he mustn't speak to me and
the ogre was always watching. How I thank Heaven," added Geraldine
fervently, "that Mr. Carder himself had called Pete off duty for the
first time before the--the archangel swooped down from the sky."

"I'm getting on," said Ben. "If you keep on promoting me, I'll arrive
first thing you know."

"I should honestly be wretched if I had to think Mr. Carder was blaming
Pete for my escape. The boy did tell me his life depended on my safety."

"Well, I don't understand," said Ben with a puzzled frown. "Who lies in
front of Pete's door? Why does he stay there? Why doesn't he light out
some time between two days?"

"Oh, Mr. Carder has told him no one would employ him, that Pete would
starve but for him. Did you notice how ragged and neglected he looked?"

"He looked like a nut. I was afraid he was so stupid that you would
never receive the message." Ben looked thoughtful. "How long has he
lived at the farm?"

"For years. Mrs. Carder took him from the orphan asylum when he was a
child. She thought he would be more useful than a girl. They keep him as
a slave. You saw how very bow-legged he is. He can't get about normally,
but he drives the car and helps in the kitchen and does every sort of
menial task. There was such a look in his eyes always when he saw me.
Little as I could do for him, or even speak to him, I'm afraid he is
missing me terribly." Geraldine's look suddenly grew misty. "See how
faithful he was about Daddy's letter. Poor little Pete. Mr. Carder will
be out of his mind at my flight. I hope he doesn't visit it on that poor
boy."

"Well," said Ben, heroically refraining from putting his arms around
her, "why don't we take him?"

"We? Take Pete? How wonderful!" she returned, her handkerchief pausing
in mid-air.

"Sure thing, if you want him. Send him to the barber and have his hair
mowed. Have some trousers cut out for him with a circular saw and fix
him up to the queen's taste."

"Oh, Mr. Barry--Ben! You don't know what you're saying. It would give me
more re